Witch's Promise
by Thalia Stormwind
Summary: Six months after Pale Demon, Rachel is faced with a choice. What she does now will shape the future of both reality and the everafter. Spoilers for Pale Demon and all the books leading up to it, obviously. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Rachel's Choice

I sat alone in the bell tower of my church, while Bis ran interference with the pixy children. I looked over the demonic texts that lay in their bookshelf, gathered in secret by my dad (the only dad who counted, the one who raised me) for the day when I would need them. It bothered me that he knew that I'd need them, even while he and Trent's dad worked to cure me of the Rosewood Syndrome. He knew, and yet he'd gotten Mr. Kalamack to cure me anyway, despite the fact that the Elves had cursed us with it in the first place. It was a genetic check to ensure that if a witch was born with the ability to use both kinds of magic together, Earth and Leyline, that witch would die before they could reproduce. They did it to ensure the stunted genome would remain that way in their seemingly endless war against demonkind. My kind. Whether I chose to admit it or not.

The familiar wash of adrenaline stayed my hand with the clippers. My heart began to pound, loud enough for Ivy to hear, had she been home. I stared hard at the innocuous little pair of wire cutters, poised to remove the charmed silver that had been Trent's way of apologizing for what his father had done to me, for the lack of choice I'd had in what I'd become.

And that's what this all was. A choice. How many times in the last six months had I agonized over it? I'd worked so hard to survive, all my life, all while working even harder for a normal, better existence. How odd that these two things were mutually exclusive. Sure, I could remain ley-line neutered, hiding from the ever-after and my own genetics, rescuing familiars out of trees, and dying slowly inside, or I could claim who I was, deal with the demon politics, and use every weapon in my arsenal to make people who wanted to use me leave me alone by force.

I had plenty of time to think about all this. For too long, I'd been cooling my heels as asked while Ivy and Jenks made all the runs. No one wanted my personal touch when calling for our help. Those that did call for me did it on a dare, as a joke, or for help in things I wanted no part of. I had played it smart, had stayed out of trouble, and hadn't gotten any new injuries in the process, but the result had me feeling useless and empty. I couldn't even make amulets for my partners. Ivy was still wary of my witchery, and Jenks was too damn small. I felt powerless, made redundant, and I didn't like it.

I put the clippers down for the thousandth time and ran a trembling, sweaty palm over the upholstery of the fainting couch where Marshall and I had done that power-pull. It had been a beginning of something, perhaps that normal life with a witch who could put up with all the crap my life dished out, but my shunning had put a quick end to that, too. And for what? For trying to stay alive? And while I was no longer shunned, I was a self-proclaimed demon. What kind of stupid ran through my brain when I'd made that particular little proviso for saving the coven, San Francisco, and the world from Ku'sox? While the Whithon's check had allowed me to exist for the last six months semi-solvent, Vampiric Charms had never quite recovered from the blow of one of its partners being a demon. My bank account was dwindling and no amount of incentives or enticements from Trent was going to make me work for him. I felt better off dealing with demons.

After the first month, I'd gotten over the relaxation. I was ready to work again. Sadly, the rest of reality wasn't ready for me. Bill after bill got pushed through on my behalf, and I did nothing to repay the kindness. The fact that I could go to the corner market again had lost most of its appeal after the second month. I spent the third month glorying in having a driver's license again, playing cabby to my partners when they went on their runs or ran errands. They let me, sensing my need to feel as if I was DOING something. It was rather embarrassing, their pity.

I think I'd made up my mind to do this somewhere around month five of my elf-charmed-silver-enforced vacation. I'd read through every last one of the demon texts in my attic belfry, waiting for things to get better. I'd let the pixy girls braid my hair every day for want of something to help me feel better. I languished and I waited, and I promised to be good. I found myself gritting my teeth when my offers to help were turned down by Ivy. I got the pack tattoo David had been wanting for me, never having the heart to tell him that I planned to return to twisting demon curses before too long, and that it would be erased from my skin like all my scars and my freckles. Getting the news that Robbie's wife was pregnant was like a slap to the face, even while I pretended to be happy about it while my mother gushed over the phone. It brought home how alone I was and that I would never have babies of my own, unless I wanted them to be like me.

And what was wrong with me? I had to admit that even though I'd been afraid of demons most of my life, having met quite a few of them and dealing with Al had ratcheted the fear back from mind-numbing terror to wariness. Even my dislike of Trent and his methods had taken their blows through the years, until I trusted him to put my soul back together with my body. Ceri's brilliant happiness with her new bouncing baby girl and Trent's fatherly love showed me that even flawed people could be great parents when given half a chance.

Did I want to form and hold a new soul inside of me, cursing my baby with the protections he or she would need in order to survive the Collective on its own, in the way demons were made? It was nothing like what I'd pictured motherhood being when I'd been given a clean bill of health instead of the death sentence I'd lived with my entire childhood. When I had been given the chance to hope for a future, I thought it would be just like a regular witch pregnancy, with a witch daddy and witch babies. The fact that I knew now that I could do it the demon way, that I knew I could not only hold another soul within my own, but could fill the entire collective with my memories made it not-so unfathomable, but when I thought of Al and his big bait and tackle, the idea of letting anything a demon had in his pants anywhere near me, much less making a child with him, still gave me the willies.

No, I didn't want to make a baby. But I did want to create. I wanted to make something lasting that would live long past me, if my stupid decisions caught up with me in a permanent way. Before I ran and hid from the everafter and the Collective, I had orders to make new things rolling in. I had what every demon over there wanted: I could breathe new life into their stale existences. I could even deal with the smut that it would generate, now that I knew what the blackness in my aura really was: the imbalance I'd be creating in nature. The only thing staying my hand at the moment was the uncertainty of how the demons would react to my sudden presence in the Collective once more. Trent's missing fingers and broken leg could attest to what kind of reaction I could expect when I faced Al once more, after six months of pretending not to exist.

And what of the reactions of the rest of the Collective? They all thought I was dead, but that could change the first time Al was summoned out by anyone who knew I was alive, willing to use that information as coin for dealing with the demon. It was unrealistic to think I could hide forever. Oh God, what about Pierce? Had Al killed him for failing to protect me? The thought weighed heavy on my conscience. I had to know.

Again, I lifted the clippers, sliding them between the silver and my skin. No one knew what I was about, except perhaps Bis, who knew me well enough to know what I was doing even when I didn't. My scrying mirror lay on my lap. Birds chirped in the bare branches of the trees, the Solstice weeks away. I gave pause to consider what a crappy Solstice gift I was giving to my friends and family. I counted under my breath, willing my heart rate to slow while the pulse of wild magic swirled against my skin in juxtaposition to my own and made me feel a little ill. I contented myself with the knowledge that the hated feeling would soon enough be gone: my Solstice present to myself.

"Ms Morgan?" Bis called softly, scrabbling up the stone wall behind me.

"Hi, Bis," I murmured, a feeling of calm coming over me.

"Have you done it?" he asked, edging around the couch to look.

"Not yet. I was just about to."

"Would you like me to go?"

"No. Please, stay if you like." I nodded to the end table beside me and Bis made his way to sit, gripping the edge, his tufted ears perked with his curiosity.

"I can watch?"

"Yes, Bis. You can watch," I smiled, tired from the unspent adrenaline I'd been subjecting myself to. It felt better having someone with me, sitting on hallowed ground. Smarter, maybe. I was learning to be smarter.

I let out a long breath, applying the barest hint of pressure, feeling the blades of the clippers bite into the metal. Wild magic swirled in warning that I was about to break the charm. I smiled an ugly smile; the warning seemed oddly panicked. With a harder grip, I cleaved the rest in two. The ting of metal sounded as the broken circle hit the floor, rolling for a moment, rattling to rest on the boards. I closed my eyes as sweet freedom lit through me.

"Ms Morgan?" Bis asked and touched my arm in concern.

I gasped as every ley line in Cincinnati blazed in all their glory through my thoughts. "I'm fine, Bis," I breathed out, holding back the tears that threatened. I felt them all, so sweet and full of power. I had missed them, and now I had them back. I turned a watery smile to Bis, who nodded and eased back onto his table perch. I bit back a sound of regret when the contact ended, but sent my thoughts to the line running through my graveyard, humming with a familiar energy.

I had taken one, maybe two breaths, before I sneezed. Laughing, I placed my hand on my calling circle, wondering if Al had had a start big enough to stop his little demon heart. I opened the connection before I could sneeze again. I felt my consciousness widened by the Collective, Al's fury foremost in my thoughts.

"Rachel's line," I smirked, speaking aloud for Bis's benefit. I felt Al calm himself slightly, though a low-banked rage simmered in the background.

_Rachel Mariana Morgan! Damn my dame, it really is you. You're supposed to be dead, love._

Shit. Al was really pissed off if he used all three of my names along well one of his pet endearments. "Hi, Al. Did you miss me?"

_I saw you with my own eyes. You were brain-dead, without a soul. _His mental tone held dark promise of finishing the job for me.

"You saw my body without my soul, Al. That much is true. I got it put back in after my aura recovered enough to house it."

_That's what you've been doing for the last six months, witch? Recovering? Why in the seven hells didn't you come through with Ku'sox? Thanks for that, by the way. Right into my lap, kicking and screaming and on fire._

He was beginning to calm down. That was good. "I didn't come through because I didn't want to be there. He'd just tried to eat my soul and memories to leave me naked in the middle of the lines, Al. Give a girl a break."

_Make room, girl. I'm coming through._

"Ah, you can't, Al. I'm on hallowed ground. And it's daytime"

_You little tart! Just going to hide in your church while I catch all the hell from the rest of the Collective? I don't think so. When I get my hands on you…_

"Al! Relax! That wasn't the plan! I wanted to wait until you'd calmed down just a bit, and then I was coming back to work!"

_Back to work? _he blinked. His ire deflated.

_Back to you teaching me, back to making tulpas, back to the everafter. Back doing all of it._

_ You really want to come back?_

_ I've been reading all the demonic texts in my library over the break, so you'll have a little more to work with, _I thought soothingly. _I haven't been able to put any of it into practice, so it's all theory at this point._

I could feel his eyes narrowing at something I'd said. _You've been conscious?_

"Ah, Al, about that…"

_That lousy Elf! This has his stink all over it._

"You can't touch Trent. Remember? On that note, what have you done with Pierce?" I was getting a little angry over his threats.

_He's here. I had to salvage SOMETHING when my meal ticket, errr… student was a loss. Should I give him the good news, love? _he purred, relishing the idea of using me to make Pierce even more miserable.

_He's… sure. Go on and let him know that I'm alive. _

_ He knows, doesn't he? _He all but growled.

"He and Trent knew when he went with you, yes. They wanted to give me a choice."

_Between witch and demon? Ha! Sorry, love, but you are what you are._

_ Yes, I am what I am. I know. So how about it? Just like the good old days?_

_ No. _I could hear the wheels turning beneath the surface of his thoughts. _One night a week isn't going to cut it. They almost put me in jail again over this farce. Thankfully, I had Ku'sox to hold accountable, so he went in the pokey and I got levied a fine. You've got a lot of rooms to earn back, sweet, so I hope you enjoyed your vacation. I want you over here full time._

_ Two nights, _I countered, relishing the feeling of bargaining with Al again._ My choice._

_ Six nights and days. I'll give you your Saturdays back. Eight hours for lessons and five for networking._

_ Five nights a week, with at least one meal in reality and I keep my weekends and sleep in my own bed._

_ Done, Itchy Witch. I'll see you in your graveyard as soon as the sun sets. _He seemed far too pleased with the arrangement. There had to be something he knew he could exploit.

_ Al? Wait a minute…_

_We have a _lot _of time to make up for. Do not make me come drag you out._

Shit. I really must have forgotten something. _Al, really… wait, _I whined.

_You have no idea the trouble you are in, my sweet little Itchy Witch. It's good to have you back. Don't forget your gargoyle._

He closed the connection and I was suddenly in my bell tower again, alone with Bis.

"That sounded like that went well," Bis offered.

"It definitely could have gone worse."


	2. Rachely Ever After

I flew into a flurry of packing before I could even think about what I was going to tell Ivy and Jenks. I packed up the remainder of my dad's Leyline magic supplies, eager to be using them again. I packed a bag with changes of clothes, just in case I got laid out for another few days making a memory and Al couldn't shift me home with a damaged aura to cushion my thoughts in the line. I packed a few toiletries, too, since the brush and wash curse Al used didn't freshen my breath or clean my teeth. I even packed a lunch for Al, Pierce, and myself, well aware that food that didn't taste like burnt amber was a rare commodity on the other side of the lines.

Somewhere between bottling water and sliding sandwiches into little plastic baggies, I heard the front door of the church opening, the sound of Ivy and Jenks bickering carrying through the sanctuary. I got everything safely stowed outside the back door while the sound of pixy children greeting their papa and the slam of Ivy's bedroom door echoed back to me. I felt like I was sneaking out. I checked the time and figured I had an hour and a half before sunset to cushion the blow of my leaving. I pulled out my largest cooking pot and took it to the sink to get dinner started. I wasn't above using a little bribery to soften the blow, and pasta seemed like a high-carb, good-feeling food to start. I pulled out a bottle of honey I'd been saving for a special occasion, or a lot of ass-kissing for Jenks, and this seemed like the time to employ it. I measured out a thimbleful as the clatter of pixy wings were headed my way. It's too bad I didn't have anything nearly as good for Ivy, but she seemed to prefer coffee and orange juice to any other beverage, so I figured I couldn't do better.

"Hey, Rache! We're back," Jenks hollered, flitting into the kitchen with a cautious sound to his greeting. Had he been dancing on eggshells around me the whole six months? Suddenly depressed, I realized he had. I heard the water heater kick on. Ivy must be showering.

"Hi, Jenks!" I smiled brightly, hiding my naked wrist behind the island countertop as I used my other hand to push forward the Jenks-sized shot glass of honey. "How did the run go?"

My smile pulled him up short and he looked from me to the honey to my hidden wrist. He landed lightly on the countertop and took my bribe, his wings drooping. "You took it off," he said, pulling out his chopsticks and setting to like a man who really needed a drink.

"What gave me away?" I muttered, going to the fridge and pulling out a few tomatoes to make sauce with.

"You were smiling. You haven't smiled like that in months," he answered, his tone resigned.

"So you're not mad?"

"Sad, maybe, but…" he paused, gobbling up honey, "It's like before, when Ivy wasn't practicing. It's part of you, I guess, and you've been miserable without it."

That was exactly how I felt. I really needed to give Jenks more credit. He was incredibly perceptive. "Thanks, Jenks."

"Doesn't mean I like it. Mmmmm, that's goooood honey."

I cooked while Jenks quickly got honey-drunk. I had coffee made before the water heater clicked back off. I was dumping diced tomatoes into a pan with a dash of vinegar, salt and hot sauce when Ivy slinked in to grab the orange juice out of my mom's old fridge. She took a glass out of the high cupboard before asking lightly, "When are you leaving?"

Shit. She'd heard. At least that meant I didn't have to break the news. "Sunset. I'll be back before sunrise."

"Are you sure about this, Rachel?" she asked, still remarkably calm. Maybe Jenks's remark about her bloodlust put it into a perspective she could handle. I turned from the stove to look at her. Her head was lowered over her lap, both hands on the counter around her glass.

"I'm done feeling useless. You have to admit, I haven't been able to do my fair share of the business. I have a job in the everafter. I pretty much have a monopoly on said job, since Newt won't make any new memories and I can actually come back to see the things they want. I had an order for Rynn Cormel's pool before… Ku'Sox."

"Rynn doesn't have a pool," she muttered, perplexed.

"He does in DC," I countered. I stared at the top of Ivy's head, wordlessly begging her to look up at me. I had to see how she was _really_ taking this, but she wouldn't look, wouldn't let me see if her eyes had gone black. "I know this is going to sound dumb, but I know what I'm doing."

"Have you called Big Al?" Jenks hiccuped from his spot under the spotlight over the sill where Mr Fish, my Beta, used to swim. I sure hoped Al or Pierce had remembered to feed him in the everafter while I was gone.

"First thing. He was pissed at first, but now he's… happier." I turned back to the stove with a shrug. "I hope," I whispered to myself.

"We've already said everything that needs to be said," Ivy murmured low. "You'll do what you want to do, regardless of the consequences. If things had gone differently, you'd still be going there. What else can I say? You're a demon. It's part of you, like Jenks is a pixy and I'm a vampire. You tried the witch thing and it made you miserable. Maybe this way, you can be happy."

"I'm not leaving for good, Ivy," I tried to reassure her. "No matter what, this is my home."

"I know," she sighed, smiling a tired smile. "Better not die over there."

"If I don't come back at sunrise, you'll summon me back, right?" I asked, real worry spilling into my tone while I stirred my sauce. Clockwise, always clockwise, never widdershins. I wanted good things to come of this meal.

"I'll make sure Ceri knows you're gone. Do you want me to call Nick just in case?"

"Ah, no. I think Nick's demon summoning days are really, finally over. I scared him one time too many with Al showing up in his apartment."

"Crap for brains peed in his little thief pants!" Jenks called from inside my dented spell pot. When did he get over there?

"Do you want to tell Trent or should I?" Ivy asked, stifling a grin at Jenks's loving endearment of my ex.

"I'll call him. It's the least I can do, but I'm not looking forward to him trying to hire my services out as his own private demon."

"Why not? He Liiiiiikes you," Jenks slurred, still in my dented spell pot.

"Because he likes me," I answered with a shrug, not really having a better reason any more. I had entrusted him with my soul; him and Al both. Could I pick them or what? It's a miracle I'm still breathing. Trent and I hadn't talked much since our stilted conversation in my kitchen six months ago, and we never mentioned that kiss we shared in the hospital, either. Mostly I just asked him about Lucy and how Ceri was settling into new motherhood. He always handed off the phone immediately if Ceri was in the room. Maybe I'd hurt his feelings or something.

I really needed to give him a call, right after I ate.

Dinner prepped like an expertly stirred spell, we sat in relative silence. I even got Jenks to take some of the pasta and sauce on his own little plate. The rest went to the pixy brood and Bis, who fidgeted nervously atop the fridge throughout the entire confrontation between the roommates. Ivy offered to do the dishes so I could get my call to Trent over with.

After calmly telling his secretary who I was and that I wanted to speak to his Elfness, I was put on hold for a record ten seconds before he picked up.

"Rachel," he sounded genuinely happy to hear from me, which made what I was about to say that much harder. Guiltily, I realized that he was usually the one to make the calls. "Have you finally come to your senses and decided to work with me?" Now we were back in familiar territory, and I didn't feel so bad.

"Geez, Trent. Well, hello to you, too. Listen, I have something I want to tell you and I don't have a whole lot of time to turn you down gently."

"When have you ever turned me down gently?" He sounded amused, but underneath he was a little hurt. I could tell he was talking about more than just me working for him.

"I, uh, wanted to thank you for giving me this time to make a decision about, you know, what I wanted to be when I grew up."

He let out a long breath of air and I could hear him settling back into his high backed office chair. "You're going back." It wasn't a question.

"Not permanently. Just a regular sunset-to-sunrise, and I keep my weekends."

"I could give you that," he murmured softly, "I'd even pay your travel expenses."

"Tempting," I teased. "I'd still like to remain a freelancer, work with you on a case-by-case basis, if you've still got a use for a day-walking demon."

"Be careful, Morgan." His voice was heavy with meaning.

"I will," I swallowed down surprise at his honest, naked sentiment. "Thanks, uh, Trent. For everything. You know how to call me, as does Ceri. But if you circle me, I am going to take it out of your tanned elf hide."

"Duly noted. Now, will there be anything else?" He was back to his casual, businesslike self. Hearing the brush-off, I shook my head.

"Nope, that was it. Hug Lucy for me. I'd like to come visit, soon, if that's not an imposition."

"Are you looking for an invitation?" His smiling, teasing demeanor came back with a vengeance.

"Now, you know I've never needed one of those, Trent," I teased back.

"True. Take care of yourself, Rachel."

"Right back at ya." And that was that.

I put the phone back in its cradle, wondering why I felt so sad all of a sudden. I thought I'd get more static from the people I cared about, and even more from Trent. Everyone had been surprisingly accepting, even resigned to me doing this, like they'd known all along what I'd ultimately choose. The only one who seemed the tiniest bit surprised was Al. I bet I'd get the same reaction from Mom that I got from Jenks and Ivy, granted with a bit more of her supportive, potty-mouthed flair. Was I really that predictable?

I tired it on for size, realizing that this was now a normal life for me. I decided to quit beating myself up over every little quirk of fate and just go with it. I was a demon. It was time I took that and made it my own. I could only be myself, and no one else's idea of who I should be. With that in mind, I strolled back into the kitchen, blowing bunny-eared kisses to the pixy children playing in and around my desk as I went. Al would be coming to scoop me up pretty soon, and I wanted to spend time with Jenks and Ivy before I left.

"That sounded like it went well," Ivy remarked from behind her computer, surrounded by her maps and markers and things. I caught Bis's gaze and smiled cheekily with him.

"It definitely could have gone worse."

Bis stuck the tip of his tongue out at me and I had to laugh.

"What? What did I miss?" Jenks cried from his place on the still-warm stove.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Al's coming to pick me up from the graveyard in about fifteen minutes."

"He's already standing in the line, Ms Morgan," Bis spoke up.

"I have until sunset," I said. "I'm not going to leave early just because he thought I was dead for six months."

"Do you think he… missed you?" Ivy pondered, giving me an odd look. Her pupils were tiny, the ring of brown around them giving testament to her emotional calm.

"More like he wants to waste no time in bitching at me about how much shit he took over me 'dying'."

"Yeah, that's gotta be it," Jenks nodded, looking worried that maybe it wasn't. "You didn't see him when he saw you lying in that hospital bed, though. He was Pissed with a capital P."

"Yeah, his entire investment and future way of life just got flushed down the toilet," I scoffed, but something in me paused to consider. Maybe he really had been upset about me dying because he… liked me for me, not just what I could do for him. Demons had feelings, could even love. I was the poster child for that, and only those demons who could love survived to make it to the everafter. It wasn't impossible, but it was worrisome.

"Rachel, get out there. Don't make him even more pissed off by making him wait," Ivy urged, looking a little ill. "I do not want to see him like that again."

"Crap on Toast! I'm going! Come on, Bis," I said, and stood still while he wound himself around my neck with his tail. I saw the lines ignite trails in my consciousness, and had to hold back a giggle of delight. I'd really missed them.

"Bye, Rache! Bye Bis!" Jenks called, and he was joined by a pixy chorus of "Bye, Ms Morgan!" from his kids.

I grabbed up my stuff from the stoop behind my church and turned to wave back at my church, murmuring, "Bye, guys," before turning to pick my way through the headstones toward the line.


	3. It's a Highland Night

With Bis on my shoulder, I didn't need my second sight to see Al standing in the line, with Pierce an arm's length behind. I supposed it was a sort of show of goodwill on his part, letting me know that 'the runt' was still alive and relatively unharmed. Al was smiling brightly, but Pierce only looked worried. Most of that worry was probably on my behalf, seeing as he'd risked his life to allow me to stay out of the everafter, if I'd wanted. I spared him a moment of pity that his gesture, while appreciated, was going to be for naught. You can take the demon out of the everafter, et cetera.

Al noticed that I'd seen Pierce, and the two of them shared a short conversation that I couldn't yet hear. I've never been very good at reading lips in profile, or at all, really. As I approached the line, Pierce vanished with a look of anger pinching his handsome face. Al must have put him back in his box. Curiously, I continued forward. Al only got rid of Pierce when he wanted to tell or show me something without the demon hunter watching. This beat Al punching Pierce into unconsciousness. I gave a brief thought to how the coven was faring without him with all but their remaining two members being dead. Things had been quiet these last few months on that front. The weres and the vampires had also been eerily silent. I had my bets that a war was brewing, but it was a war fought in offices, shady back rooms, and kept mostly out of the public eye. My bet was that their weapons of choice were money and red tape. With the elves out of the closet, so to speak, the big wigs of the Interlander community were probably watching and waiting to see how the newly emerged race would fare before stirring up any kind of _overt_ trouble. An entire race returning from extinction gave one pause to consider what else would come back from the darkness. My warnings about demons at my trial had kept them (for the most part) leery of burning any bridges with possible allies, should the demons get any bolder about interacting with reality.

I was interrupted from my musings by Al's offered hand. He was still clad in his early nineteenth century lordling outfit complete with the white gloves. I think he dressed like that to make me feel more at ease. For all I knew, the constructed guise had worked countless times over the centuries to draw in the unwary and gain himself new recruits to his build-a-familiar program. It wasn't working on me. He could have appeared as the black skinned, buck-naked devil and I'd have felt the same about him. He was my teacher, that much was true, and though he'd guarded me while I recovered from the creation of the petrified forest tulpa, he had also tried to kill me a number of times and had a temper with a lot of bite to back up his bark. I warily took his offered hand, expecting to be yanked headlong into the everafter.

He surprised me by casually stepping to my side of the line, the sun almost audible as it slipped beneath the horizon. We stood just outside of hallowed ground. He took my other hand, raised it, and made a great show of inspecting me from head to toe, despite my protests. Finally, he grinned, satisfied. "You look well-rested," he announced. "Your aura is as intact as can be. At least you've been taking care of yourself, even if your sense of fashion still leaves much to be desired." I would have been more suspicious if he'd showered me with praise, instead of letting fly the barbs about my appearance.

"What are we still doing here, Al?" I asked, crossing my arms over my barely-there chest and tapping my foot.

"Why, shopping, of course. I see you packed some lunch. I'll just send that on through to Pierce, along with your luggage, shall I? I have a hankering for marshmallows that I don't need to burn the hell out of to enjoy."

"Shopping? I thought you said we had a lot of work to catch up on."

"Why, Rachel. One would think you were embarrassed to be seen with me in public," he mirrored my crossed-arms posture in mock affront.

"That's not it at all, Al," I replied, dropping my arms, although actually, that accounted for part of my reluctance. I didn't want half of reality to think I was dating my demonic teacher. "I just thought you might want to get some of your rooms back as soon as possible. Or are you trying to keep me to yourself for a little while longer?" I asked, both eyebrows raised. I still hadn't managed to do the one-eyebrow thing, though I'd practiced. Many times. I'd had a lot of time on my hands.

He regarded me seriously over the rims of his smoked glasses, his red, goat-slitted eyes burning into my green. "Ku'Sox is up for parole, now that you've turned up not dead. Attempted murder is a different charge all together in the everafter. If a demon could be put away every time we tried to off one another, we'd all end up in jail. I just thought you might want to keep your head down until they figured out what to do with him."

I felt a moment of blind panic run through me at the thought of running into Ku'Sox at the demon mall and had to stifle a shudder. "Oh," was the wittiest thing I could come up with for the moment. The last time the demons tried to figure out how to deal with the little genetic designer dump of a demon, they banished him to reality and buried him under the St Louis arch. I doubted that they'd have any kind of permanent solution to the problem the second time around, unless Newt finally came around to Al's way of thinking and let them kill him.

My musing must have shown on my face, or Al must have been taking a peek, because he answered my thought aloud. "Newt almost let them kill him after she thought he'd killed you. The Collective is all in agreement that you, and those like you, are the future of our kind."

"Almost?" I didn't have the guts to tell him that I had no plans to do my part in making the next generation of little demons. Actually, I was firm in my decision not to.

"I doubt you, Rachel Mariana Morgan, could stomach the idea of putting your own child to death, even if he turned out to be a brat."

"He's her son?" I blurted in surprise. I let the 'brat' comment slide. We both knew Ku'Sox was much more than just that. He was a brutal sociopath.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Newt was behind his creation as well as a good portion of his tutelage. She feels responsible for how he turned out."

"An insane, manipulative serial killer? What, is he being treated like a mental patient by the courts or something?" I shouted, not caring in my ire how it would sound to anyone on my street, listening to me have a shouted conversation with a demon in my back yard.

"In a way, yes. Do you condemn a tiger to death for killing prey? Do you scold a monkey for throwing feces at another creature encroaching on its territory?" His voice raised to the level of my own, though he seemed tired, instead of angry. He lowered his voice again, speaking reasonably and slowly, as if explaining something to a child. "There's something fundamentally different about him from us. He's missing a part and acting on his instincts to assuage the emptiness. That doesn't mean I want him in my kitchen having tea, but he is one of us. In some fashion or another, his failings are our failings. We made him and he is our responsibility. It was naive of us to think we could put him away and never see him again. We were just putting off the inevitable."

"So we're just going to hide and hope we're not his next victims?" I muttered, exasperated with the entire mess.

"You could have left him in the line and let him die. You could have ended him right then and there. You were defending yourself and were perfectly within your rights. Why didn't _you_ kill him?" His eyes were narrowed, glaring at me, and his self-righteous anger gave me pause.

I didn't have an answer ready for that one. I glared at him, then shook my head and let my anger deflate. "So, the supermarket, then? I suggest you put on something a little less conspicuous. I'd rather not give the press any more fuel for their anti-Rachel campaign."

A wash of red-tinged everafter shimmered over him and he stood before me looking exactly like Pierce. I glared, but didn't tell him to change. Doppelgänger curses weren't that expensive to create but he'd just spent one at my request. Pierce was still technically coven, so I figured it was as diplomatic a disguise as I would get from him. The fact that I was still prickly about Pierce's confession of love despite the fact that it was his testimony that had damned me, literally, didn't matter at the moment. I was just glad that he didn't appear as Kisten. I appreciated Al's restraint.

Apparently, he wasn't finished with his questions just yet, because even though he allowed me to take his arm and lead him around the headstones, he asked, "Do you regret not killing him?"

I paused, looking anywhere but at Al. "No. But I bet I will, before it's all over with."

He made a low, thoughtful sound, satisfied with my answer for the time being. He gestured that we continue on. "The best shopping Cincinnati has to offer awaits, my Itchy Witch."

"I suppose I'll drive us, then. Unless you've somehow learned how to drive a car." Looking at my little blue station wagon, I gave a thought to how much I missed my red convertible. I'd totaled it on the bridge between the Hollows and Cincinnati when the coven had Nick summon me out the previous spring. I'd long since lost my anger over it, seeing as the crash could have been a lot worse. Nobody had died. On second thought I said, "Never mind. Anybody could summon you and if you get pulled out in traffic, things could go really bad. A lot of people know your summoning name."

"Not quite as many on this side of the lines any more." He showed his teeth in a feral grin that made my pulse pound. Crap on toast! When will I quit forgetting what I was dealing with?

"Nick does."

"What makes you think I haven't gotten him yet?"

"Have you?" I muttered, unlocking the doors.

"If it will ease your itchy mind, no," he replied, and climbed in. I climbed in after.

I shoved the key into the ignition and listened as the engine sputtered to life. "Thanks, Al," I said, and meant it. The Turn take it, why did I still care? If he was stupid enough to still be summoning demons, he deserved whatever he got. And while summoning demons wasn't yet illegal, it was definitely very stupid.

I put a hand behind the passenger seat headrest and slowly backed us out of the drive. Al made no comment at how close I came to touching him. Again, I appreciated his restraint, although it left me feeling wrong-footed.

Al toyed with the bite-me-Betty doll Jenks had somehow glued to my dashboard as I swung the car around and put it in drive. I hadn't found an industrial-strength solvent up to the challenge of getting the horrendous thing off. It came away in his hand with the tiniest trickle of power and I almost smacked myself in the forehead for not thinking of doing that myself.

I pondered the mountain of crap that awaited me in the everafter as I navigated the quiet streets toward the expressway. I'd avoided the suspension bridge since my accident, although it was the most direct route into downtown Cincy. Call me superstitious, but I didn't want to chance that again. I took the curve of the onramp, revving the engine up to merge onto northbound 471 and cringed inwardly as some yahoo blew past me at a blistering eighty-miles an hour, far too close for comfort. As an added bonus to his dickery, he flipped me off, as if I was somehow in the wrong for doing the speed limit. I prayed for a highway patrolman to see him as I checked the lane to my left and switched over.

I felt vindicated when I saw Mr. Asshole, as I had decided to call him moments after he flipped me off, pulled over on the shoulder by a car with flashing lights. There was smoke coming out from under his hood, as well. I glanced briefly over at Al, wondering if he'd had anything to do with Mr. Asshole's mountain of misfortune, but he was still playing with the doll, not even looking at the world outside of the car. I figured that Karma had simply caught up with Mr. Asshole, and that my oblivious companion had nothing to do with it. I guessed again as my car suddenly swerved over three lanes in a window barely large enough to park a bus in and into the left hand lane, making us too far away from the exit I'd planned on taking. Horns sounded behind me, while I grit my teeth and prayed I wasn't about to get splattered all over the interstate. My passenger-seat driver continued to control the car without looking up, until we had taken the Reading Road exit on the left hand side. The car was back into my control as we slid to a stop at the light at the end of the exit ramp. I could have still gotten us into downtown, had there not been a sign prohibiting a left hand turn at the intersection.

"Was there somewhere in particular you wanted to go, Al?" I simpered sweetly, while inside I was boiling.

Without missing a beat, and with a bored tone, he replied, "Go straight through this intersection and maintain the left-hand lane. Go up the hill a bit, and once you've passed Greaters, there will be a left-turn lane at a defunct-looking overpass. Take the left fork onto Burnet, and keep going until you reach University Avenue. Hang a left there."

"We're going to the university? Why didn't you just say so?"

"Not quite, Itchy Witch. We're making a few stops in that direction." He seemed pleased as pie, so I refrained from chewing him out until I figured out what he was up to.

I didn't have long to wait. Five minutes later, he was having me pull over at a parking meter and checking his pocket watch against some unknown time. I glanced around as I dug out a quarter for the meter. We were at the cross streets of Highland and University avenues, outside of what looked to be a real-estate agency for college student rental properties. Business must have been doing really well, if the high-price cars parked around it were any indicator. It was quarter-to five. Al leaned against my blue beater, content for the moment to wait.

I sighed and sat on the hood, taking a moment to really look at the buildings around us. Across Highland avenue was a quaint little white brick building with a fenced-in patio covered in grape vines with metal scaffolding that appeared to be the skeletal supports of an awning. I could smell the gravy, sauerkraut, and sausages cooking from where I stood, and hear German polka being pumped out through outdoor speakers over the hiss of passing cars. A painted sign on the brick done in green and gold scrollwork proclaimed the place as Mecklenberg Gardens. Huh. I'd heard of the place, but never gone. It had closed sometime during the Turn when the owner had fallen victim to the Angel virus, which was a shame, since it had been family owned and operated since the early 1800's and was the self-proclaimed first restaurant in Cincinnati. Apparently, it opened up under new management, possibly the deceased owner's kid or nephew, since then.

Across University avenue from Mecklenberg, and caddy-corner to the real-estate office was a dilapidated apartment complex, housing a tiny corner store on its first floor with neon proclaiming that lottery tickets were sold there. Across University avenue from where I'd parked was a towering three-story redbrick building covered with ivy. On my way through the light, I'd seen that there was a hand-painted gigantic hanging sign from the front of the building, proclaiming the place to be Highland Coffeehouse, with a faintly cubist representation of a coffee mug, with pinks, purples, greens, and blues surrounding the yellowing white of the mug. Another sign at the entrance, also hand-painted, but in green and white, stated that they were closed, but I hadn't been able to read the small print of their hours.

I figured that was where Al had wanted to go. Feeling a sudden hankering for my raspberry latte, I bit back any complaint I might have harbored for Al's high-handedness in getting us here. I'd been banned from Junior's, despite having my shunning revoked, and was keen to find a new place to get my fix.

As a nearby church bell tolled the hour, Al pushed off the car and sauntered to the crosswalk. I hadn't seen him this excited about anything since he yanked Pierce's ghostly form from my graveyard right in front of me, so I knew this place had to be something special. The fact that it opened at five p.m. during the week recommended it to humans and Interlanders alike. It would catch the crowd of humans, coming home from their nine-to-five jobs as well as cater to those of us who started their days in the after noon. I hadn't known of many late-night MPL places since Piscary's lost theirs. I followed Al quickly, my strides bringing me along side him at the next curb.

I mounted the five stairs at the front of the building and passed through a french door with only one of the doors having been open. The door was propped with a little kickstand. Deep red terra cotta tile made up the floor in a tiny foyer with a defunct sewing table jammed up against the opposite wall, covered in free papers in wire holders. Turning to look behind me at the sign that hung in the front window, now that the 'open' part had been turned to the street, I read over the hours briefly, noting that they stayed open until 2:30 a.m. every day of the week. Their MPL was displayed discreetly by the no-smoking sign in the tiny foyer, next to posters about local indie bands playing locally for the next month or so. Al opened the second door for me, a glass-fronted affair with a push-bar on the inside, but a long handle on the outside, and I was struck with the smell of freshly-ground coffee and the plants that had obscured the view inside through the gigantic plate-glass windows, six feet above street level. Soft music with a reggae beat came out to greet me with the smell, and I felt transported back in time as I stepped over the threshold and looked around me, although exactly which era I'd found myself in was a mystery.

I took in the 1920's art deco coffee grinder, the late 1800's heavy brass cash register, the mix-and-match chairs and tables, and the 1940's pin-up-girl lamps holding court on either side of the bar that ran perpendicular to me in a rush. The place looked like it was decorated from equal parts antique shops and garage sales, and a forties-something human with long, greying blond hair gave us a cheerful wave from behind the bar. He was wearing a teeshirt and jeans, instead of a uniform. "Hi guys! Come on in and I'll get you set up with some menus," he called over the music, wiping his wet hands on a towel that hung from a metal clip off the countertop behind him.

Al made his way to sit at the bar while I stood, looking around me in awe. He gestured me over impatiently while I gaped like a fish, doing my best impression of a tourist on holiday. "Rachel, sit down before you break your neck," he demanded. Meekly, I lowered my head and clomped to sit on a stool, with one acting as a spacer between us.

"What can I get you guys?" the man behind the bar smiled, with a twinkling in his grey-green eyes over an unfashionable goatee. I silently looked around for the moment, noting that the espresso machine that dominated the back counter was built in 1952 (it had white numbers stuck on the middle group. I suspected that's why two of the three groups didn't have a handle.) I suspected that the newest appliance in the place was the credit-card machine. It alone had an LCD backlit screen. Everything else looked to be from the previous century or earlier.

I let Al place my order as he placed his own, a little disappointed that he'd gotten it to go. I could see that the coffee house stretched further beyond the bar and had been eager to explore its depths. Without missing a beat, our bartender/barista started frothing milk while remarking cheerfully that our order was, "Coming right up."

I made the excuse of having to use the bathroom to get a better look at the place. Our barista gave me brief instructions on where to go, _head toward the cigarette machine _(circa 1970's) _and take a right. It's the first door on your right. _ I followed the instructions, opened a door with another handmade sign, marking the door for 'Ladies', and found myself in a tiny, one-toilet bathroom with a tiny sink, with a single sconce to light the little room with yellow light. I amused myself reading the graffiti that peppered the dark magenta walls with light periwinkle stars stenciled on while I did my business. I read a bit of poetry that had been etched into the mirror over the sink, thinking that they had misspelled a word or two, and made my way back out to the front room. I was definitely coming back to this place when I had the chance.

Al was paying for our drinks with cash at the register. I took up my cup from its place on the bar and took a swig, then another, deeper one. I had to suppress the urge to wiggle with delight as goosebumps broke out over my skin. "God, that's good," I proclaimed, while the man who made it for me smiled at me for the complement and continued counting out Al's change.

Sad to go, I followed Al back out of my newest favorite hangout as a couple of students came in with laptop bags slung over their shoulders. I contented myself with sipping my coffee while Al and I waited for the light to change so we could go back to the car.


	4. Rachel's Paradigm

Al had me drive further down University avenue, toward the place from which the street got its name. I had gone maybe ten of the thirteen blocks toward the familiar territory of academia before he had me stop and park again, this time on Old Vine street. Whistling, he got out of the vehicle and went right into a building that had been given every non-magical form of protection a hardware store had to offer. The windows and the doors were covered in criss-crossing metal that looked like fishnet under the vertical stripes of solid, iron bars. I could barely tell what the neon signs inside said. I did not want to venture into such a forbidding place, so I stayed in the car with the engine running. I had no idea such a horrible-looking neighborhood existed, nestled this close to the university. The apartments above had been boarded up, probably since before the Turn. There was an old brownstone school building across the street, also looking as if it had been abandoned and left to slowly crumble into nothing, with a padlocked, chain link fence surrounding the cracked parking lot and a sign warning trespassers away. The entire block looked condemned.

Al slid merrily back into the car a brown paper bag clutched to his middle that clinked with the sound of full glass bottles when he sat. I pushed my frizzing hair out of my face in a weary gesture and asked, "Where to, next, boss?"

"Make a u-turn," he commanded, carefully placing his bag of 'goodies' behind my seat on the floorboard.

I checked both ways and pulled the maneuver off with a minimum of fuss. There was no one around to see me do it, anyway. "What was that place?" I asked, not sure if I wanted to know.

"That was a liquor store. Staggerlee's, if you must know."

"And where are we going now?"

"The supermarket, of course. Drink your latte before it gets cold."

I drove to a stop sign, relieved to note that there were more cars on the street in this direction. I was beginning to see some familiar sights, although most of the storefronts had changed. A building done in black paint and silver flashing had the remnants of a stripped-out sign, proclaiming the place to be Skincraft before they'd moved to the more fashionable shopping district on Ludlow avenue. I had gotten my pack tattoo at the other location. I realized that he was having me drive down what was commonly known as Short Vine, a little strip of road blocked off on the far end by a plaza of shops at the foot of a steep decline from Calhoun, running parallel to the actual Vine Street. Word was, you could take Vine from downtown Cincinnati all the way north through Columbus to Cleveland, but no one dared make that drive. There were actual chasms in the pavement outside the cities in the abandoned rural areas, and things lurked out there that even a demon had cause to be afraid of.

I stopped at another sign, then pulled forward beyond Bogarts and Sudsy Malone's. I had made one of my first tags as a runner at Sudsy's. I could remember the smell of stale beer and bar nuts mixing with the scent of the washing machine detergent, bleach, and fabric softener from the laundromat/bar. Nostalgia reared its head briefly. I coasted past the Cubbard and the little dive bar almost at the end of the street. Without Al telling me where to go, I flipped on my left turn signal and coasted to a stop when the street ended in a beige stone wall that was the outside of the supermarket. I turned left onto Corey, then made an immediate right into the parking lot, slowing to a crawl so as not to scrape the nose of my car on the sharp incline of the entrance from the metal grille at the bottom that functioned to catch the rainwater run-off from the elevated lot.

I scanned about for a parking space and sighed as I realized the lot was stuffed. I scored the spot that a grandma in an old pontiac inched her way out of, peering over the dash through the gap left by the steering wheel. I clicked the button on my seatbelt and let the reel make the metal clip fly and hit the window. I slid smoothly out of the car while Al did the same. A tingle of everafter made me glance back inside the car, to the backseat where the bottles had been. Suddenly, the bag with the booze was gone. Al had hidden it with an illusionary curse.

"No need to give the thieves incentive," Al answered my unspoken question with a shrug.

I noticed that Bite-me-Betty was still missing from my dashboard and shook my head. "Not that they need much."

"What?" he muttered, and fell into step with me as I bravely crossed the parking lot, dodging runaway shopping carts and the taxis pulling into the fire lane at the entrance of the building.

Grocery shopping with Al was a bewildering experience. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the things he put in the cart. He insisted we go up and down every aisle, as he did his best impression of a four-year-old with a bad case of the gimmes. I could't complain, because I wasn't the one footing the bill for the excursion, although I had to tamp down the urge to ask him where he got all the cash.

When we laid everything on the conveyor at the checkout, the cashier had an odd look on her face. As I watched her ring up the marshmallows, gummi weres, prime-cut steaks, chunky monkey ice cream, magic shell topping, bungee cords, a propane torch, a tape measure, a new pair of sunglasses, a romance novel, a fashion magazine, cucumbers, carrots, bananas, ginger, horseradish, a pound of colby jack, a pound of swiss, a pound of oysters, and frozen cocktail shrimp followed by bottle after bottle of Redi whip, I realized that our shopping list was downright suggestive, not to mention bizarre. It had me thinking back to that trip Jenks and I took up to Mackinaw, when he took that curse to make himself big and did everything in his power to make the locals think we were a swinging couple with kinky tastes. She did a double-take at my smile of fond remembrance, which might have had a bit of a wicked glint to it.

Al (still looking exactly like Pierce) just grinned and paid for it all, again with cash, and took the receipt and his change with a wink to the bag boy. He pushed the cart out with a cheery wave and we went out into the chilly air of the parking lot to load everything into the trunk. I unlocked the car and pointedly wheeled the empty shopping cart to the corral, handing out disapproving looks to the guy who was about to leave his parked in the middle of a parking space next to his pickup truck and Al alike, who had been ready to do the same. I smiled a vindicated little smile as I slid into my seat and watched the guy push his cart the rest of the way to the corral with a red face.

I started my station wagon and strapped in. When my eyes returned to the front, the new sunglasses were hovering in front of my nose, the ear guard dangling from Al's fingers.

"Uh, thanks, Al, but I don't wear sunglasses at night. No sun."

"Just try them on," he insisted.

I shrugged and slid them onto my face. "How do they look?" I asked, turning back to him and twirling a lock of my hair around a finger sarcastically.

"Look for yourself," he said, flipping my visor down to reveal the lighted vanity mirror as the pickup truck's engine roared to life. Suddenly, the interior of the car was lit with blaring intensity as the pickup's headlights blared on. Geez, did he leave his brights on all the time or what? The pickup idled for thirty seconds while it dawned on me that Al had seen this coming and had acted to protect my night vision under the guise of trying on my new sunglasses. Even better, I looked great in them.

The pickup's tires squealed as its driver tore out of the lot in a fit of pique. I just watched him go with a strange twisting feeling in my gut.

"Al, did you know he was going to do that?" I asked, turning to my bizarre shopping companion with a worried frown. I could barely make out the features of his Pierce disguise, as the sunglasses were still on my face and the dimmer lighting of the parking lot wasn't nearly enough to warrant eye protection.

He reached over and slipped the glasses up onto the top of my head. His expression was unreadable as he considered what to tell me. My heart made a loud thump as the tension settled into being without a sound between us. "It feels odd," he remarked almost to himself, "that I keep finding myself trying to protect you without thinking about it." I swallowed at the lump that formed in my throat. He still hadn't answered my question, but I figured that I knew the answer, any which way.

"Self-preservation seems more your style," I said, having to strain to maintain a light tone, almost shoving the words out of me.

"Hmm," he grunted noncommittally. "You wouldn't know this, but demons have a protective streak a mile wide for those we care about. It's not often, any more, that we give any one the chance to become important to us. It's especially strong when a male is protecting a female. It's a survival instinct, I believe, and nothing more. Still, it rankles, having my will hijacked by evolution."

"Are you telling me that you, Algiarept, a demon and broker of familiars to the everafter, have fallen victim to white knight syndrome?" I found the entire concept to be mind-numbingly oxymoronic.

"Well, when you put it that way," he sniffed in mock affront and pulled at the cuffs of his shirt, as if he still wore lace, "It does seem far-fetched. Must be someone I ate." His lips stretched wide over suddenly sharp teeth in a thoroughly demonic grin, meant to take back some of his intimidating reputation.

It worked. I stifled a shudder, though I knew what he was doing, fixed my attention to the pavement in front of me and pulled out of my parking space. "Sometimes, Al, I don't understand you, even when I think I do."

"Then all is as it should be, Itchy Witch," he replied, satisfied.

I navigated the vehicle through the maze of the parking lot with great caution while I tried my best not to let my fear get the best of me. I _should_ be afraid, dammit, it would be stupid to do otherwise. That was the problem. Being afraid of Al, however, meant that I must be afraid of myself. It occurred to me that he'd been trying to tell me that for almost as long as I'd known him in his own little ways. Appearing to me as myself, only with all the marks of a true demon, was one of those ways.

I considered the notion, rolling it around in my head until the uncomfortable idea rang true. I felt my denial, my beautiful illusions, wash from me in an icy rush. The barriers my mind had set up to protect my fragile little ego came down with the feeling of a ton of bricks being dropped on my head. It was just as crushing, and just as painful. Great. Just great. I really was terrified of myself, of what I could do and what I would become. I felt a tear snake its way down my cheek as I drove aimlessly without Al's instructions. He was as quiet and lost in thought as I was.

I jolted myself out of my maudlin thoughts as I found us back at the coffeehouse. I snuck a glance at Al, who seemed oblivious to everything except whatever dark thoughts were causing him to scowl to himself. I took that moment of his inattention to swipe away the tear that had could betray me. I parked in a spot next to the rear of the building, gripped the steering wheel and took a deep breath. So my worldview had just shifted in an instant. So what? It had happened before and I had survived it. I was good at adapting to change. Ivy had told me I was too good. But things just kept shifting around me and I had to stay abreast of it all if I was going to stay sane.

According to Ivy, I was a veritable factory of change. I could come to grips with this new truth, and wrestle its ass into submission. I contented myself with the knowledge that demons feared nothing and no one, aside from other demons, perhaps. Newt was universally feared. She was a demoness, so it came with the territory. Therefore, since I was a demoness, I could be universally feared. To demons and most of the rest of the world, healthy fear was known as respect. I could live with that kind of respect.

I squared my jaw and _willed_ myself to take back the power of my new self-knowledge. It took a minute or two, but all the pieces began sliding back into place in my head. There was a very big difference between what I _could _ be and what I _was going_ to be. I left the question of '_should be' _alone for the moment. I had already decided to stop worrying about _should._ The only conscience I needed to follow was my own, and I had a _very _strong conscience. Whenever I found myself in a moral dilemma, it had never steered me completely wrong, just a little sideways from where I had envisioned I'd be. I was the final arbiter of my fate. I was strong enough to keep it that way. No one was going to make me a victim. Never again would I be at someone else's whim.

I took a good, long look at my teacher, who was staring right back at me. "What furious thoughts are running through your head right now, Rachel?" he wondered aloud, bemusement transforming Pierce's features.

"I need you to promise me something," I told him levelly.

"And you will trust me to keep it?" he smirked.

"About something this important? Yes. I'll trust you to keep your word."

His smirk dissolved, his face mirroring the serious look on my own. "Very well, then. What do you need of me?"

I took a deep breath and let it out. "I need you to teach me everything you know, everything I can do. No holding back for fear I will one day be a threat to you."

He flinched visibly. "You've already almost killed me once. What assurance will I get that you won't use it all against me?"

"I promise, Al. I promise that I will never use it against you, so long as you don't try to kill me or any of my friends ever again."

"And if one of them should try to kill me first?" I knew he was talking about Pierce.

"If you're acting in self-defense," I said levelly, "then it's their funeral. I can't take responsibility for the stupidity of others. Nor should you."

"Why, Rachel, I do believe that's the most enlightened thing I've ever heard you say. We have a deal. May I ask what has brought about such a shift to your stance?"

"All knowledge is worth having," I shrugged.

"Knowledge is power," he agreed. "Power is definitely worth having."

"How soon can we start?"

"There's no reason we can't give it a go this very evening. My place or yours?" He must not have been able to stop himself from making that sound suggestive.

"Yours, but I want coffee first."

He clapped his hands and rubbed them together vigorously. "Well, then. Let's not dally about in the car all night."

Al rushed us in and out of the Highland, a hurried sense of purpose to his pace. He high-handedly took over the car once again, getting us back into the Hollows in record time. I kept glancing in the rearview, watching for flashing lights, but we never even saw a cruiser the whole way back to my church. As soon as I parked and got out of the vehicle, Bis came flying off the steeple and into my waiting arms.

All the lines in the city blazed into my consciousness. I smiled at the feel of my own familiar line out back, determined to give the bond between me and Bis the chance I never would before. I had thought it was as bad and as simple as slavery, but now I knew that it was a symbiotic relationship. Bis wanted to be with me as much as I liked having him around. My change-of-mind might have come from waking up multiple days to find Bis curled up asleep at the foot of my bed, despite his predilection for high perches. I found it comforting and sweet… in a weird sort of way. I think the last straw was when I woke up to find him and Rex curled up around each other on Halloween. He must have done that on purpose, because it was too cute for words and my heart positively melted on the spot.

I wore him like a leather stole to the backyard, relishing his warmth as the night was positively chilly. Al walked beside me in companionable silence, giving me time to chat with Bis about where we'd gone and what was in the bags we were toting along. He complemented my new shades as we arrived at the line in the yard.

I had a distinct sense of deja vous as Al held out a hand for me to take. I had the good sense to slip the bags onto my wrist before reaching out my own.

The instant we made contact, we were spinning off back to the everafter.

a/n: So there we have it. You've all been so kind in reviewing me and I know you've been howling for more fun in the everafter. I promise, I'll get to it in the next chapter.

Next up: More Al and Rachel, more instruction in the art of demon magic, and the first hint of something momentous to come


	5. Kitchen Thyme

Al's kitchen materialized around me moments before my body started being reconstructed around my soul from the records on file with the Collective. I felt as if I'd had my physical clock reset from the last time I'd registered a curse with them. Six months of time melted away from me; six months was nothing in the grand scheme of things, but I could see why being a demon and using the lines to travel would make me immortal. Time would never be a factor to my life expectancy again. I felt the realization fall into place in line with my new resolve with an audible click. So I was going to live forever. The thought was a lonely one, as I remembered that all the people I cared about back in reality would grow old and die before I ever hit my halfway mark. I looked around the cavern of a kitchen with its central fire and books and bottles on shelves to the counter with its heavy stone top and spelling equipment washed and drying to the side in the rack. I smiled to see that Mr. Fish was still alive and swimming in his giant brandy snifter on one of the counters nudged against a wall. Bis came through on a whisper of thought, still wrapped about my neck. I gave him a moment to get acclimated before asking him to let go. He jumped off and found a wall to scramble up, coming finally to rest on the top of a bookcase.

I jangled the bags off my wrist to the floor, feeling pins and needles where they'd cut into the skin uncomfortably. Suddenly, it occurred to me that there was nothing resembling a place to preserve the food that we'd brought back from reality, even as Pierce appeared beside Al and myself to take our shopping bags. Al must have some place to keep them, then. I'd ask when I got the unpleasantness of finally facing Pierce out of the way.

He disappeared with the bags without a word to either of us. I looked at Al and saw his Pierce disguise fall away in a wash of leyline energy. Ah, so Pierce was uncomfortable with the idea of Al wearing his face. It made sense. Perhaps he was jealous that Al had gotten to take me around town, but it was more likely that he was worried about what Al had done to his reputation while he was stuck in the everafter, unable to do anything about it.

"Well, then Professor McDemon, what's first on the syllabus?" I asked him, determined not to let Pierce's silent treatment keep me from my mission to become the biggest badass on both sides of the lines.

Al adjusted the lace cuffs of his familiar nobleman guise, looking for all the world to be happy to be back in his own skin, so to speak.

"First things first, we have a lot of time to make up for. Before I can take you out-and-about to Dalliance and our other usual spots, we need to get you a decent wardrobe together. Let's get stirring."

I thought to offer a protest, to remind him that appearance spells were frivolous, I bit my tongue. There were so many other important things he could be teaching me, but I'd asked him to teach me all about being a demon, and keeping up appearances was a very large part of functioning in demonic society. He held up a hand to the counter to indicate I should go first. I went to stand behind it while he got a leather-bound tome (I sure hoped it was leather) from the shelf, laid it on the countertop, and opened it to a page without looking.

Five minutes later, I was gathering ingredients from the large cabinet beside the sink and placing the herbs and jars beside the medium spell pot on the counter, happy to be back to stirring curses rather than earth magic. It was too bizarre to be real.

Beside the demonic text of spells, laid open on its spine, was the fashion magazine from our excursion to the supermarket. The romance novel had disappeared to places unseen. I didn't want to ask where or why… I just didn't ever want to know.

I read through the instructions again before I touched any of the ingredients, not wanting to make a mistake that would set me back a year in Al's estimation of my abilities. That done, I noted that the curse should be stirred over an open flame about the size of a burner on my stove. Al's fire was too big for it, so I'd have to improvise. I went back to the cabinet and rummaged for a way to fuel my spell fire, selecting from the myriad supplies a bottle of lamp oil and a contraption that looked like a cross between a bunsen burner and an old-fashioned oil lamp with a little stand. Al watched me set it up over the rim of his glasses, withholding comment until I'd kindled the flame with a thought and adjusted the knob on the device.

Finally, as I placed the pot on the stand with a carefully measured amount of water in the bottom, Al spoke. "I suppose Ceri didn't teach you how to float a flame. We'll do that for the second batch."

"_Float _a flame? She taught me to light candles with my thoughts and conjure light from a ring on a string, but she never tried to teach me that."

"She must not have found it important, since you have your own gas stove at home. That little piece of tech," he said, indicating my burner setup, "has been obsolete for a millennia. I only keep it around for familiars, since the curse to float a flame is demon magic. You've got the ability to kindle it, so I can teach you."

"Great," I said, and meant it. I wanted to learn it all. "I'll just get this ready to simmer and we'll start on that."

Al gave little to no instruction as I prepped the base of the curse. I was chopping and stirring to my heart's content, not needing any. I had been doing my own spelling, and this part, the earth magic part, was a lot like what I'd been practicing the whole time I'd been charmed invisible to the Collective. A spoonful of powdered asphodel here, a thumbnail of mustard seed there, a spindle of cobweb to make the curse hold together, and a myriad of other things went into the pot. Finally satisfied that I put it all in, I gave it six clockwise stirs, followed by one counter-clockwise turn, repeated the sequence six more times and then lowered the flame. The brew would simmer for a half an hour before it was ready to use, then it would need to cool for ten minutes before it could be invoked, or so the instructions said.

Al gestured me over to the comfy chair while he took his customary stool in front of it. That still baffled me, but it was nearly a routine by that point. He scooted up close, our knees almost touching, as he bent forward as if to whisper some delectable secret. I felt goosebumps prick as I leaned forward in the excitement of what he was about to show me. Gone, for the moment, was my angst about loved ones leaving me unintentionally, my worry about Ku'Sox, my fear of myself (and by extension, Al). All that mattered was that I was going to learn to do something incredible.

He held his palms about an inch apart over his lap, dismissing his gloves in a wash of everafter. I forced myself to pay attention to what he was doing, rather than get lost in inspecting his deeply lined palms. "Are you connected to a line?" he asked me. I was. I hadn't let it go since we arrived, so I simply nodded. "Good," he responded. "Now I will tell you what you're to do as I do it. Fill your chi with the energy of the line, spindle it, and let it equalize. Don't let go of the line. Concentrate the chi into your palms, until your hands become warm."

I started mirroring his actions in my mind and was surprised to note that my hands had gotten quite itchy. I rubbed them against my jean-clad legs and was startled to note that tiny sparks were flying up from the friction. Al gave me a long-suffering look. "Just watch for now, Itchy Witch. We'll get to the implementation in a moment." I let the chi in my hands rejoin the rest in my head with chagrin.

Satisfied, he continued showing me. "Fire needs three things in order to exist: a spark to start it, fuel to feed it, and air so it can breathe. The chi in your hands will serve as the spark, and your connection to the line as the fuel. The air in the room will provide the last, but you must ensure there is a steady current. This is where things get a little difficult. You must provide the earth magic of the curse from your own body and the ley energy from your own thoughts, but in order to make a flame you don't have to concentrate on so you can do other things with it, you must create an environment and a set of conditions where none existed before and provide the stream of energy to maintain them without thinking about it. Also, you must be able to contain the fire so that it does not get away from you. Fortunately, a circle will fit the bill for all of these."

"But you said 'float' a flame. Not circle one."

"I'll get to that. First let's work on getting one started, shall we?"

It took all of the rest of the half hour allotted to the task. The curse had a stiff learning curve. Too much energy and the flame blazed and winked out. Too little and the flame sputtered and was extinguished. Too much air and the flame guttered, providing uneven heat, and too little made it suffocate. This was all very exciting, even as it was frustrating to find the right mix between fuel and air through trial-and error, and I know that my dry account of it here doesn't do justice to the heady feeling of experimenting with energy and thought. Creating something out of thin air and chi was amazing. I'd explain all the details of the method to the madness, but I'd be brought up on charges of uncommon stupidity if I ever published it. This account was never meant to be an instruction booklet for demon magic, in any case.

We hadn't even gotten to the part where I circled it, freeing my mental energy for actually using it, but the spell in the pot needed to be taken off the flame to cool and the ingredients in it were of limited supply.

Al and I stood paging through the fashion mag while the potion sat off to the side to cool down enough to be measured out in its separate doses. I could invoke the whole batch at once, but then I'd have three doses of the same appearance instead of three different 'costume changes,' as Al liked to call them.

Where an earth amulet would provide an entire change of being and a leyline charm would provide a surface appearance, but not fool the other senses like touch or sound (I'm thinking of the beading on my Mesopotamian headdress clinking as I moved during my fateful first night at Dalliance), this curse would provide the solidity of an earth charm coupled with the versatility of a leyline charm. And while most of the other two types of charms were stored in a potion or an amulet, to be worn or consumed when the charm was to be used, the curse would be stored in me, dormant, until I was ready to invoke it, and in time, I'd learn to be able to lend the curse to another, without having them consume it, first.

We bickered over which of the outfits contained in the magazine would serve me best. I wanted to stick with black leather and lace, but Al insisted that I step outside my comfort zone. The whole point was to change into a costume, not provide more of the same stuff I always wore. He kept insisting that I'd need to expand my wardrobe's horizons if I was ever going to keep up with the changes at Dalliance.

In the end, we agreed on a black businesslike suit with pinstripes and a pencil skirt slit up the side for better movement, nude nylon stockings and a pair of peekaboo-toed black pumps. Al figured the harsher angles and directional patterns would be easier for me to keep in my mind's eye as I invoked the curse. I studied the image for a long while, replacing the model's face, skin tone, and hair color with my own. Our body types were similar enough, and I was looking forward to having my hair behave and become silky for once, so I let the hairstyle remain the same in my mind's eye. Once I had the image firmly fixed, I added details to it like how the fabric would feel, what sound it would make as it moved, and just how much stretch the fabric had. Before my mind could wander too far, I pricked my finger and added the three drops of blood to the phial Al held out to me. He corked the bottle and we started the process all over again, with more bickering and finally, compromising on the next outfit.

Before too long, I was staring at three corked curses in a line on the countertop. Once I ingested them, I'd have them stored in my body for later use. My first three stored curses were waiting to be imbibed. With a sigh, I uncorked the first and muttered, "Down the hatch," and swallowed it all in one go. It tasted awful, like I'd just licked polyester and washed down the taste with stagnant water, but before I could lose my nerve, the other two went the same way.

Al watched without comment, then handed me one of the bottled waters. I took it gratefully and had it half-empty in three strong pulls. Then and only then did I allow the all-over shudder to wrack my body. "Jeez, that was foul," I told him.

He grinned. "I know. Part and parcel, love."

"Should I test them?"

"One aught to do for now. No use in wasting the whole nights work in one go."

"What's the invocation?" I wondered aloud, paging back through the recipe. "Ah," I said, finding it. "So I say the magic word, while concentrating on the outfit I want to wear. Simple. Ok, here goes." I took a breath, focusing on the satiny green dress with the mandarin collar and a gold embroidered Chinese dragon curled from top to bottom. "_Similis Facio." _

The familiar wash of ever-after started at my scalp and ended at my toes. My hair gathered at the back of my head, flowing silkily into a tight bun, held with lacquered chopsticks. I felt the cool satin of the dress hug my spare curves like a lover's embrace. Tiny soft slippers encased my feet in warm welcome. Though tight in all the right places, it was infinitely more comfortable and provided freedom of movement to my legs and arms, which was the most important thing to me.

Al showed one of his rare, real smiles. "It'll do," he said simply. He really needed to work on his positive reinforcement, but I smiled back.

My stomach chose that moment to give forth a loud rumble. I hadn't put anything on it but coffee and nasty potion for hours. Al rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation, but then his grumbled in response and I couldn't hold back a laugh. He smirked in good humor. "I suppose that means it's time for dinner. Good thing we're dressed for it. Pierce!"

Pierce popped in with a tray of my bagged sandwiches. It was an odd sort of thing to eat for dinner, but I'd made them and so I was happy they weren't going to waste. The three of us sat down with a baggie and a bottle of water around Al's kitchen counter on tall stools Al had Pierce drag out from who knew where. Bis perched close beside me, between me and Al on the table and got a sandwich all his own. It was different from how we usually ate, standing around in our various corners of the room. It seemed more homey.

Pierce kept trying to catch my eye as we ate. I pointedly fixated on my food, not wanting to get into it at the moment with him. Al smirked to himself as he polished off one sandwich. As he reached for his second, Pierce finally gave up trying to will my attention to him and spoke.

"I daresay, Mistress Witch, that these are the best things I've eaten in an age. I'm powerfully grateful for your forethought in making them."

"Shut up, Pierce," Al growled, fixing his glare on Pierce.

"Land sakes, can't a body even pay a complement, and give thanks for a much-needed meal?"

Al kept glowering, but said nothing. I took a moment to _really_ look at the man who had saved me and damned me in turns. He was looking thinner than last I saw him, his already aquiline features looking gaunt rather than spare. Al must not have been feeding him much.

"You're welcome," I murmured. "Thanks for the complement." He smiled warmly and continued eating quickly, but fastidiously, refusing to lose his excellent table manners, no matter how he must have been starving.

I started in on my second sandwich as Al reached for a third. From the way he was putting the things away, I knew he shared Pierce's sentiment, or perhaps they just appreciated a meal that didn't taste like the everafter, as had been my hope when I'd made them. Suddenly, Al sneezed. With a look of sheer annoyance, he placed his sandwich, still wrapped, back on the countertop before him. "Excuse me," he muttered darkly, "I have to take this call." He sneezed again as he rose from the table and made quick strides to the calling glyph etched on the mirror on the far wall.

He slapped his hand onto the surface, and spoke. "Yes, what is it? I was sitting down to dinner."

I didn't catch much of the following conversation, because Pierce placed a hand on mine and took the opportunity of Al being preoccupied to speak to me in hushed tones. "Are you well, Mistress Witch? Did he harm you or do anything… distasteful in retribution for pretending to make a die of it?"

"No. I'm fine. He took me shopping, is all," I shrugged.

"He was powerful upset for a long while. He may be lulling you into a false sense of security before he exacts his revenge," he warned. "I would not trust him."

"Thanks for the warning, Pierce, but I've got this."

"Why, of course she's here," Al's voice carried over to me, giving me the excuse I needed to pay attention to him rather than Pierce. I was the only 'she' he could be talking about. My ears pretty much perked up at the mention of me.

"No, she's perfectly fine… that's not necessary. Look, I give you my word! No, don't… all right. Fine. See you in a moment, then." Al ended the contact by stepping away from the mirror and turning back to us. "That was Newt," he remarked. "She's paying a visit. Pierce, make yourself scarce."

"I opine that might not be such a good idea," Pierce protested.

"Pierce, get out of here. I can handle myself," I told him. "Between me and Al, she's not going to do anything to me, but I can't guarantee your safety."

"Quickly, now," Al shooed him. "Run along like a good little familiar before I have to rough you up in front of Rachel. She won't like it much, but Newt doesn't have the fondness in her for you that I do, and she'd do much worse."

Pierce regarded me, ignoring Al, with a soft, worried look in his eyes. "If you're sure…"

"Go on. I'll be fine. Take Bis with you, too."

"Ms Morgan?" He sounded confused, and also worried for me.

"Really, you'll be safer that way. It's me she wants to see."

"All right," he frowned, flying off the counter to land on Pierce's shoulder. They were gone in an instant, and not a moment too soon because Newt appeared beside Al's fire between one blink and the next. She looked much the same as always: bald, robed, and wearing her strange hat. She turned from the fire, her robes swirling around her ankles and swishing softly. She stared at me for a good long time, taking in all of me in various ways. Finally, she smiled, and seemed almost to be relieved.

"So he did not lie. It is good to see you again, Rachel Mariana Morgan. I felt you register a curse, as did all of the collective. The uproar was… deafening." Her eyes slid closed, as if hearing it anew. She opened them once more and looked around the room absently. "I told them I would come lay eyes on you myself, so here I am. Did you remember the tape measure I asked for this time?"

"Uh, yeah. We brought you one." I rummaged about in the bag of non-consumables and brought it forth. She took it from my hand and frowned down at it.

"I suppose I will be very busy with this for a time."

"So your visit is to be brief, I take it," Al put forth hopefully. He made no bones about how much he disliked Newt. She made a humming sound in the back of her throat, her mind completely elsewhere. She didn't bother to take offense at Al's rudeness.

"Here," I said, trying to make up for whatever worry or sadness my death may have caused her in the meantime. "Take a sandwich with you. I made it myself in my kitchen back home."

She took the sandwich inside its bag and held it to her breast with the tape measure. "That's very kind of you. I haven't eaten anything from there in a long time. I'll be off, then. I have some bets to settle and measurements to take." She gave Al a stern look. "You remember what I told you, Gally. If you sleep with her, I will neuter you."

"Umm…" I cleared my throat. "Thanks for… looking out for my virtue, or whatever, but I so don't understand why you care."

She turned back to me and gave me another one of her thousand-yard stares. "You're his student," she said simply. "I won't have him abusing that position of power. We girls need to stick together. Sleep with his familiar all you like, though, I do ask you to use protection until you're ready to learn how to have a child. If you try now, without getting instruction, it just might kill you. It may kill you any way, there's no way of knowing. For now, just don't try. You have no idea how many work orders Al has stacking up for you to fill. Can't do that if you're growing a baby inside you, and you definitely can't if you're dead."

"Ah, that's… umm. Thanks for the warning. I didn't really plan on letting either of them into my pants, but I'll keep it in mind."

"Any time. Enjoy the rest of your night, Rachel. By the way, I love the dress."

"Thanks," I replied. She winked and was gone. "She seems much saner," I remarked to Al, who was very pointedly studying a book he'd grabbed off the shelf.

"Today was one of her good days." He closed the book with a snap. "Now! We're fed and the night is growing to a close. Let's finish up showing you how to float that flame before I send you back with your homework."

I finally managed to create a circle in midair by concentration alone. It was much harder when I had nothing to anchor it to. Making a flame with my hands, breath, and thoughts seemed like child's play in comparison. I was exhausted mentally, after so many hours spent concentrating my will. Once I'd successfully done it several times in a row, Al called a stop. He thrust the book he'd been holding at my chest and I took it, curious.

"Latin? This is my homework?"

"You syntax sucks," he shrugged. The modern phrase sounded funny with his British accent. "Why, did you have something else in mind?"

"Yeah. A book about how the lines work."

"I don't own that text. It's in the demonic library."

"Well, check it out for me."

"It's restricted."

"I need to be able to fix what I did to the everafter. To the lines," I reminded him. "Preferably before any one else finds out what I did."

"Very well, then. I'll look into acquiring a copy. I must admit, I'm curious as to what you'd make of it. It's written in Latin."

I sighed and clutched the book he handed me tighter. "All right, I get it. I'll study this until I can translate on my own."

"You'll want to pick up a Latin dictionary, too. That book only has vocabulary fit for a seventh grade reading level. The text you want is way past college-level."

"Fine. I'm ready to go home, now," I said, meaning it beyond what I ever meant anything before.

Al called Bis and Pierce back into the kitchen without further comment at seeing how tired I was. I wobbled on my feet. Pierce steadied me with a hand on my shoulder that I didn't have the energy to push off. The tiny slip of line equalizing between us might have been innocent, but it felt like he was making a pass at me, and my skin crawled. I shored up my resolve and stood firmly so that he had no excuse to keep touching me. Bis took up residence around my neck and I felt for the line. Not mentioning that Bis was all the escort I needed, I murmured, "There's no place like home," and let the flow of the line take me.


	6. Of Tricks and Treats

Dawn was a pale tint of color in the East. The night was not yet over, but morning was not far off, either. I looked up to my steeple as Bis flew up to check over the yard's defenses. I picked my way carefully through the snow that had fallen in my absence. White blanketed the grass and the headstones, glowing pale blue in the coming dawn's eerie light. By the time I had reached my back stoop, my slippers were soaked through. My feet were freezing, but I was glad to be home.

Entering my kitchen, I couldn't help but frown. Pierce waited for me on the other side of the counter top, his own frown of worry easing back off his features when he saw me home safe. "When you weren't here, I had a spot of fright," he told me as I ignored him in favor of reaching the coffee left in the pot. "Why did you choose to appear in the graveyard? It's freezing outside."

"I noticed," I said drily as I poured myself a lukewarm cup. I dragged my weary butt over to a chair and placed a hand over the mug, letting a bit of power slip from me to warm it. The tiny bit of magic was almost too much for me, but I concealed my weakness from Pierce. I hid behind my cup as I sipped the steaming liquid. "Where is every one?"

"I do not know. They were not here when I arrived. We are alone in the church."

Silence stretched out between us. I welcomed it. I preferred it to the alternative.

"Why, Rachel?" He finally asked. I could not bear to meet his earnest, searching gaze. "Why did you come back?"

"I live here," I said, pretending ignorance for as long as I could. I so did not want to have this conversation with him.

"You know to what I was referring. I know you well enough to determine that," he intoned, not budging an inch. I gave up trying to put it off.

"I live there, too," I shrugged, letting him take it as he would.

The silence stretched on, heavy and insistent. Unable to bear it any longer, finally he spoke. "Did you come back for me, Rachel?" he asked, hands outstretched to take mine, which were stubbornly clasped around my mug of coffee. I held it like a talisman before me, like a shield, and searched his face. Gone was the anger that I had thwarted him in killing his captor, instead hope and regret warred in his eyes. Above all, there shone his unrequited love.

"No, Pierce." I took a deep breath. "I came back for me." Hope was replaced by resignation, regret by relief.

"But you had a chance at a normal life." I met his pleading gaze square-on, watching his hands flutter to his sides. "I thought that was what you wanted."

I met his earnest, searching gaze with a frank, honest look I doubt I've given to many. The gravity of his questions pulled at something deep within me. I felt compelled to answer in kind. "Normal life turned out to be overrated. It didn't sit well, not any more. I've changed too much, seen too much, and I couldn't bear to sit here, useless, as the world turned beneath me. Like it or not, I am a demon. Hiding here won't change it. I can't change it, so I am going to make the most of it."

He searched my face for a long time, seeking answers to questions he didn't voice, written in my expression. I tried to keep my far blank, but whatever he'd seen there must have satisfied him somewhat, as he nodded. I let out the breath I'd forgotten I was holding in relief, only to suck in another when he stepped close and cupped my cheek without warning. I never expected it of him, he had always been so proper and respectful. Well, not _always,_ I thought ruefully, with a blush. He hadn't been so proper in the hole in the ground where we'd shared fear and passion, by turns. I was too startled to smack his hand away, as memories of our time together came forward in a sensuous rush.

Taking my inaction as a sign to move forward, he slid his gentle grasp around to the base of my head and pulled me to my feet, to stand flush with him. My mug clattered to the table as his other hand swept around my waist, pulling me closer. "Pierce," I breathed, heart going like a jackhammer, "don't…"

"I have missed you, Rachel," he murmured to me, content for the moment to regard me with wonder in his eyes, drinking in my features. Past the smell of burnt amber, I could pick up the faint traces of his cologne. My hands slid to his shoulders, applying gentle pressure to keep him from closing the gap. "So many times I have thought of you in my arms, convinced I could never have you there again."

"Pierce, please. I don't want to have to hurt you." His shoulders were wide beneath my hands, but even through his clothes, I could feel how thin he'd become.

"Grant me this," he pled. "Just a kiss. A drink of water in the desert of my fate. Just a dream, and I will let you go." He seemed so desperate. There was an odd light in his eyes I'd seen in people resigned to death. He was looking around corners.

"Are you dying?" I asked, startled at the thought.

He gave me an odd look, frustration pulling his brow downward. "Honestly? I feel as though I've been dying for a long while, until you. I'm dying now, knowing what can never be."

Tears sprang to my eyes. My heart ached for him. "One kiss? You want to kiss me goodbye?" Ivy had done the same in Seattle. I could understand this request.

"I don't want to say goodbye." His eyes were intent, stubborn. "I know I am not the man for you, but if this is all that can ever be, I will be glad of the closure. One kiss, freely given and received. We can decide whether or not it is to be a kiss of reunion or farewell… after." I bit my lip, unable to think beyond the knowledge that I was going to hurt him, one way or the other.

"I'm dangerous," I cautioned, most of the fight going out of me. "People die around me. Think about that. What you're asking is going to hurt you, one way or the other. I don't love you, Pierce. I won't lie to you and pretend."

"I can live with that," he replied lightly, and then his lips were descending to meet mine in a featherlight touch. I made a soft sound at the tenderness in his kiss, the softly searching question of the touch beguiling me to let him deeper in. His hand at my neck sent a trickle of energy into me through my scar. My mouth opened in a gasp of heady pleasure and his tongue swept inside. I clutched at his shoulders, bringing him closer. His low rumbling groan encouraged me, even as he sent another wave of power over my skin. My fingers went into the silky strands of hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him harder still. What started as a sweet, tender kiss became a conflagration of passion in the blink of an eye as he pushed all the right buttons, pulling instinctive responses from me.

I broke from the kiss, panting, freeing his lips to lay conquest to my neck and shoulder, little jolts from my scar playing havoc on my senses along with pulses from the line he sent spiraling through me. I grit my teeth, trying to master myself, to tell him to stop. Tingles on my scalp heralded the fall of my hair as he pulled the chopsticks free to send them clattering to the floor. Fingers chased at the tingles through the newly-freed strands, and I found my lips being turned back to a new assault of his own. We both groaned at the renewal, but as much as I was enjoying myself, I knew I'd have to stop him somehow. He had asked for a kiss, but it was going to become something much more than that if one of us didn't put an end to it.

I felt my back come up against the refrigerator, unaware until that moment that he'd been guiding me there. His knee pressed between my legs until one of them passed out of the slit in the dress at his urging and he pressed fully against me, the hardness in his pants pressing over my core. Another wave of pleasure crashed over me at the sensation of being manhandled masterfully, the feminine desire to submit to his powerful seduction leaving me feeling weak and breathless under the assault on my senses. My better sense abandoned me to the moment. I reveled in my body being ruled by the demands placed by his.

Sensing I was lost to it, Pierce's touches grew bolder, mapping out my curves through the satin of my dress, gripping possessively at my bottom, rubbing me rhythmically against him in a dance I'd almost forgotten. I whimpered, head swimming, and his low chuckle of male self-satisfaction brought my ire kicking to the fore. Two could play this game, now it was time to see if he could handle what he'd awoken. I took hold of the line, slipping it through him in an ever-increasing rush, until he was groaning and panting along with me. We wrestled for control for a little while longer, the play of the power-pull dancing over our heated flesh and minds. My awareness was narrowed fully to what we were doing, the room dissolving in my mind's eye until it was him, me, and the line. Nothing else existed in a timeless moment of sweet, revolving power.

"God, Rachel!" he gasped, after a particularly strong pull from me. "Sweet, so sweet!." He returned it with interest, until I had to spindle a little in my thoughts when the overflow would have been too much. I pressed it back through him, giving him more, and he growled low with the pleasure. "You're getting too good at this, Itchy Witch." Before I could blink, he sent another spike through me, adding even more to the power I'd pulled from the line in a blinding rush, bringing me to the brink of my peak in an instant as I fed it right back to him, completing the circuit. Though I'd channeled the excess flood back through him, pain still blossomed in my gut, until I was gasping, not with pleasure but with supreme discomfort.

"Something's wrong," I grunted, then sneezed. Pierce's face went from slack-jawed pleasure to mounting horror in an instant. I looked over his shoulder to see the sun beginning to crest the horizon. He glanced back, too, turning back to me with comprehension and the barely banked blaze of desire.

"You're being summoned. I must go as well. Be safe. I will contact you when I can." As the sun made the rest of the journey over the hills, Pierce disappeared. I gaped after him. As another wave of nausea and pain swept me over, I clutched my gut and lay disbelieving fingers over my swollen lips.

"Fuck! Al?" I breathed, as I let the summoning take me.

My fears were confirmed when I arrived at my destination. Without a circle or any of the darkness, candles, robes, or other trappings people foolishly thought were a necessary part of demon summoning, I could take in the sight of everyone present in a blink. There, between Ivy and Trent, was Pierce. I had no doubt that he was the real article, as the sun was up, and only Al ever called me 'Itchy Witch.' Feeling all the frustration of an abruptly aborted impending orgasm coupled with the sting of betrayal, I cursed, "That Goddamned bastard tricked me!" startling everyone assembled with my sudden appearance and rancor.

"Mistress Witch, are you well?" Pierce blurted, accompanied by a stream of worried exclamations by the rest, overlapping in a maelstrom of confusion. Ceri alone took in the sight of my rumpled state and wisely remained silent. Locks of my (now silky) red hair cascaded over my shoulders as I caught my breath, holding up a hand to hold off everyone's questions for the moment. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute to catch my breath." The imbalance of traveling the lines loomed up suddenly, and I chanted "I take it, I take it, damn it," before it could hurt me.

"She looks rather flushed," I heard Pierce comment to Ivy. "Do you suppose she requires medical attention?"

"I'm fine," I spat, scooping back the locks that cascaded everywhere in irritation. "Summoning just hurts like a sonofabitch, is all."

"I apologize," Trent said stiffly. "When Pierce appeared here, concerned for your safety, I thought it best to act."

I took a deep breath and willed myself to calm. I put the last fifteen minutes aside from my consciousness until I had time to deal with them, and gave Trent a grateful, if still frustrated look. His cheeks took on a hint of pink under my smoldering gaze and he looked away. "You summoned me?"

"I wanted to," Ceri murmured, finally, "but Trenton wouldn't let me."

"Thanks, Trent," I said, and meant it. "I was safe, but I got… caught up in things, so I didn't have time to let anyone know I was back." I coughed and everyone looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with thinking about what I might have been doing that put me in such a state. I shook my head, looking down at myself, and used up another of my appearance curses just to make sure I was all put together again. Red everafter washed over me, and I was suddenly dressed in a flowing violet peasant top, black slacks, sensible flats, and pearls. My hair once again flowed smoothly to the top of my head, gathered in a loose French twist out of the way. Al and I had agreed it was a casual, sophisticated outfit that would serve well in most situations. I fought back a blush and put the thought of Al firmly from my mind. It was a rather difficult task I'd set myself to, all things considered.

My pulse slowly settled itself into a more steady rate. All at once, the last twenty-four hours caught back up with me and I was suddenly exhausted again. "I think I need to lay down," I muttered, before the world went dark.

a/n

A short update, but a sweet one. I hope you all don't mind, but I thought it best to end the chapter here. Next up, Rachel dreams and then awakens to a changed world


	7. Of Dreams and Desires

I floated in a sea of nothing for a time. There was no light or sound to detract from the darkness. Suddenly, I could hear my mother's voice. She was humming a haunting melody I was sure I'd heard before, but couldn't place. I could feel warm sunlight and smell bread baking, like it was a Sunday afternoon in my mother's kitchen when I was a child.

Soft light grew all about me, forms taking shape in my vision, textures becoming real to my senses. It _was_ the kitchen of my childhood home, but I was sitting at the heavy farmhouse-style table from my church. Ivy's things were even there-her laptop, pens, maps, and miscellanies in their rightful places, orderly as usual. There, at the stove stood my mother with her back to me, looking exactly the same age she was when I was a little girl, though she hadn't aged much since. I looked down at my hands, noting that they looked the same as they did when I last looked at them: I was my current self, not a younger version.

"Rachel, will you bring out the fennel seed?" her voice came clear as a bell over her shoulder. She stirred a pot I couldn't yet see, with her body blocking my sight. I got up and went to the pantry, to the spice rack, smelling redwood over the pervading scent of the bread. Mom had been spelling, recently, and must be, still. I brought out the herb she asked for, handing it over with a happy smile. I loved it when Mom was spelling.

She returned my smile. "Thank you, dear. I don't know how I'd get this done without you. You're my special ingredient." The turn of phrase was off somehow, but I'd longed to be back in my mother's kitchen for so long, I refused to let my feeling of trepidation sully our time together.

She returned to stirring and humming. I watched her hand create intricate patterns with the spoon as the melody and her voice washed over me. "What are you making?" I asked her finally.

"Don't you remember? I'm finishing what you started. This spell is the first step," she told me matter-of-factly. I tried to remember what she was talking about. In relief, I realized that we were discussing the spell before, while I sat at the table. I couldn't remember what it was, but it didn't seem to matter. "It's time," she declared, and held the finger stick out to me. "Three drops, if you please."

Something inside me rebelled at the idea of my blood being used to kindle whatever was in the pot. "Mom? What do you need my blood for?"

"Why, demon magic, honey. I can't use my blood. How else are we supposed to bring all my children home?"

"Robbie? We're bringing him home?" I used the finger stick, massaging three drops into the brew, eager for us all to be a family again, like we used to. Burnt amber swelled up in the steam, but I knew it was for a good cause. I so wanted my family to come home.

"_All_ my children," she nodded, pleased with my contribution. She took the pot off the flame, letting it sit by itself on the counter. Returning to me, she enfolded me into a soft hug. Pulling back, she touched my nose with her finger tip, beaming. "My special ingredient," she named me, and the dream dissolved back into mist.

When I came to, I was laying on a bed in an unfamiliar room. Ceri sat beside me in a rocking chair, knitting and humming the song from my dream. I felt the pieces click into place. That was why I was dreaming of a strange melody. Ceri's humming must have filtered into my subconscious. I had a moment of concern that maybe it had been elven magic, remembering that I'd almost been sung to death in St Louis, but Ceri would never want to harm me. She hadn't noticed that I was awake, so I took the opportunity to close my eyes and pretend to still be asleep so I could think about a few things before I had to face my friends again.

Al had duped me with his Pierce disguise. He'd had him around long enough to study his mannerisms, until even I was fooled into thinking he was one of my former lovers. Granted, I'd been worn out with all the magic practice and wasn't at top form, but he'd had me completely convinced that I was talking to Pierce in my kitchen. His deviousness and superb acting skills were far beyond what I had imagined, and he'd done it all… why? To kiss me? To send me into a spiral of madness? He had to know I would find out when the sun came up.

Just how much of it had been an act? Obviously, asking me about why I decided to come back was just so he could confirm what I'd told him before, to get a second opinion, so to speak. His second question, about whether or not I'd come back for Pierce, was also loaded. He'd played that one to a tee, but perhaps his reactions had stemmed from truth, rather than duplicity. I remembered he'd looked relieved. That part had to have been his true reaction. It wasn't until after he'd determined that I wasn't in love with Pierce that he'd finally kissed me. He had given me a hint, there before he had, about how he knew he wasn't the man for me. He had told me the exact same thing after I'd made my first Tulpa and he'd seen my naked soul.

Exactly what had been his end game? I couldn't figure out what he was after. The last time he'd kissed me, it had been about pushing me to defend myself. It had been a fight to the death, leaving me bruised, breathless, and feeling besieged. This time, he had kissed me like a lover, like a man, and not like an attacking demon. Was he hiding behind his Pierce disguise so he could get close enough to me without triggering my defenses? Had he really only wanted me to treat him like a man?

_One kiss, freely given and received. _Was that truly all he was after? The question spun around and around in my head, and I had no real answer. I couldn't even fathom how he had gotten into reality without being summoned, first. Did he ride through on my coattails, so to speak? Were the restrictions keeping demons in the everafter weakening, like I'd claimed before? My thoughts kept spinning back to the unrequited love I'd spied in his eyes, eyes I thought belonged to Pierce. I doubted that he could have duplicated it. It seemed too damn honest. Too damn real. I groaned aloud, forgetting for the moment that I wasn't alone.

Ceri's humming stopped abruptly. "Rachel? Are you conscious?" I heard the rustle of fabric as she stood to check on me. Her had was cool on my forehead.

I opened my eyes, feeling like a coward for hiding from my friends. I must have scared them half to death when I fainted. "How long was I out?" I asked her, taking the glass of water she held out to me gratefully.

"We summoned you at dawn. It's past four, now. You were asleep for a full eight hours."

I groaned, sitting up and sipping at my water. "I'm not looking forward to going back," I admitted. "Winter hours are going to kill me."

She nodded, her suspicions confirmed. "I told everyone you were just magically exhausted. A body can't keep up with that, if it's not used to it." She smiled a smile of sharing. "My first month was a lot like that, but it'll get easier, in time. Channelling so much force at once can be hard on your reserves. I'll make sure the cooks serve you something with plenty of calories and vitamins."

"Where's Ivy? And Jenks?"

"They've gone home. Jenks had to get back to his kids and Ivy had to get her own rest."

Suddenly my face flamed. There was no telling what the kids had seen or heard while Al was masquerading as Pierce in order to kiss me in my kitchen. Since Pierce, the real one, had been here with them the whole time, Jenks would quickly figure out who I'd been lip-locked with and was sure to let Ivy in on it. I groaned and hid my flaming face in my hands. I was such an idiot.

"Rachel? What's wrong?"

Ceri's soft concern was a balm to my angst. She had been his familiar for a thousand years. If anyone would be able to shed some light on my dilemma, and possibly understand what I was going through, she would. "I was in my kitchen when you guys called me here," I began, choosing my words carefully. "I had arrived in the graveyard and walked in from outside. When I went in, I saw Pierce waiting for me."

A frown of confusion marred her pretty features at my pronouncement. "Pierce came here as soon as you left the everafter. He said that Al disappeared immediately after you did. He said he was worried about what the demon was up to. He wanted us to summon you at first light, where Al could not follow or redirect your travel."

"Well, I thought it was Pierce in the kitchen, at the time. He let me believe it, and proceeded to ask me why I decided to go back. To the everafter." She nodded for me to continue. "I gave him the same reason I gave every one else. This is who I am now. I won't apologize for it. I intend to make the most of it." She smiled encouragingly. "Then, his questions became more personal. He wanted to know whether I had gone back for him. For Pierce," I clarified. "I told him no, that I came back for myself. That was when he decided to kiss me, or maybe he'd wanted to, all along. I can't be sure. Ceri, has Al ever appeared as one of your old lovers to torment you?"

The dawning light of understanding came upon her. "Pierce was Al," she murmured to herself. Giving her head a swift shake, as if to clear it, she met my eyes once again. "I do not think he did it as a torment if he did not try to hurt you. Many times, once we had grown used to one another, he would take on forms he thought I would find pleasing, to get me to, ah, enjoy it more. To participate more, when, well. You know." Now, it was her turn to blush. "Although he held my soul from me, he also tried to be kind in his own way. I do not think I ever really got to know him beyond what he would show me. If you are looking for guidance in this, I am not sure I would be able to help you. I was not myself."

"I still don't understand the seating arrangement," I admitted, trying to see things through her eyes as his familiar.

"One of his quirks, I suppose. The soft, comfy chair was for me, though I had a lower station, and the hard, low stool was for him. He was cruel in a lot of ways, and I will be eternally grateful to you for freeing me of his grasp, but not every day was hell. There were some bright spots."

"So, impersonating Pierce. What do you think it means?"

"I am not sure, although I would wager he was trying to get answers to his questions and he thought he'd get truer ones if he appeared as one who had your trust."

"Trust," I mused.

"Everything comes down to that. Demons crave it, though they do not often deserve it. Some times, I think they just want to be given the chance," she pondered.

We sat for a little while, listening to our own thoughts. It felt good to have some one to talk with about what happened, someone who wouldn't immediately judge me or jump to conclusions. "He slipped up, at the end," I mentioned. "He gave himself away. I never would have known the difference, had he done otherwise. I'm pretty sure I would have figured it out when I saw Pierce standing there with you all, but he forgot himself. I'm not sure if he did it on purpose."

"Did you enjoy it? The kiss?" I didn't know why she cared, what she was getting at. Warily, I nodded. "Then I think he did it on purpose. He may have used the disguise to get you there, but he wanted you to know who was kissing you."

"That's… just… wow. Kinda disturbing," I laughed. She smiled along with me, and we shared a moment of understanding. "Still, he's got to know I'm going to be mad at him for tricking me."

"Something tells me he'll find the consequences to be worth the risk. Come. Let's get you fed so you can go give him a piece of your mind tonight when you return. You'll need to keep your strength up and I know a couple of little elves who are dying to visit with their Aunt Rachel."

Dinner at Trent's was a raucous affair. Lucy had become independently mobile startlingly fast, and it took all of Trent's efforts to keep her in her chair long enough to eat. Emily, Ceri's baby girl, liked to play with her food by flinging mouthfuls back at whoever was on the other end of the spoon. More of it ended up on the outside than in. Both of them babbled nonstop in their nonsensical baby language, understood only by the two of them. It was satisfying to see Trent's perfectly quaffed hair marred by a string of split-pea soup and his poise stretched to the limit by fatherly patience. Beyond the tired, wild look in his eyes, though, lurked a kind of blissful happiness just beneath the surface. I felt a pang of envy. I was used to envying Trent, though, so I let the feeling pass me by, unheeded.

I contented myself with being an aunty in for a visit. As Lucy zoomed around the table for another pass, I reached out my arm and snagged her up in a spin. She burbled happily and clapped her hands and I cooed to her as I settled her on my hip, bouncing. Trent looked grateful for the reprieve and set to his meal like he wouldn't get another chance to finish it. I wondered where Quen was as I carried Lucy over to the window to gaze out at the winter-brushed landscape. She pointed at things with a question in her intelligent gaze and I named each thing she pointed at. She tried to mimic the sounds of each word, to force baby tongue and lips into adult speech. She didn't yet have the fine motor control so the result came out garbled, and she soon tired of the game, squirming to be let down.

I placed her feet back on the floor and she was off like a shot, running almost before she could walk. Ceri lifted Emily from her high chair and placed her on the rug beside the table so she could join her sister in play. Emily immediately began crawling after Lucy, who slowed a bit so her erstwhile sister could catch her up. Those two were a real handful, but they were gorgeous and sweet and could get away with practically anything. I returned to the table to finish my food, content for the moment to watch them entertain each other. Trent and Ceri had much the same idea, so the meal was completed in relative silence over the sounds of exuberant elf children, happy with the world and their place in it.

"I have no idea where they get all that energy," Ceri remarked, sitting back in contentment. As her shirt pulled taut over her belly with the action, I noticed what had escaped me before.

"Ceri, are you… again?" I whispered, not wanting Trent to overhear if he didn't know yet.

"Oh, this?" She patted her belly softly. "No, this is just the baby weight, not another bump. Quen and I wanted to wait for a year or so. We've just gotten to the point where we're not being woken up in the middle of the night. Elven princesses do need their rest, you know," she chuckled, rising to go corral the children with a circle, to keep them away from the stairs.

I languished a while longer in the warmth of a family, missing mine. I would never get back what had been lost. That I knew. My dream might have indicated otherwise, but that was all it was: just a dream. I sighed, a little melancholy.

"You could have all this, too, Rachel," Trent murmured to me, my own words coming back to haunt me. "All you have to do is accept my offer."

"Which offer, Trent? That I come work for you? Or do you mean something else?"

"_With_ me, Rachel. Not for me. Say you'll think about it."

I considered what he was saying and what he wasn't. I contemplated a life spent raising the next Elven generation, a life of playing nanny and changing diapers, of arguing with Trent over where they would go to school, what magic to teach them. Of nights spent on his arm at some gala or another. I saw it all. It was a good life, even a glamorous one. I stared at the wall, watching moments in time that may be, or may never meet my wild speculations. "Where do I fit in?" I wondered, coming back to myself as I realized I spoke the thought aloud.

"Wherever you want to," Trent answered evenly. I fixed my gaze on him, searching his face for answers beyond the words, but his face was closed off. It gave no clue as to how far the offer went. I dared him without words to elaborate on that. I met his eyes and held them, staring at him and hoping he'd just come out and say whatever was on his mind.

He stared right back, better at the silent game than I could ever be after his years spent negotiating in boardrooms. I wasn't ready to make the leap of faith and ask him, and he wasn't going to risk rejection if he laid it all on the line. I still had too many uncertainties about how he lived his life. I had no doubt that if he wanted me to work with him enough that he'd beguile me into thinking that he cared for me beyond an employee or a business associate. We weren't even really friends, yet, though he'd made multiple efforts on that front. I might have had a vision of standing on his arm, but the reality was that he and I were from vastly different social strata, from completely different walks of life. Our one, never-talked-about kiss was proof that we had chemistry, but the day-to-day reality of trying to make a relationship work would eventually leave me feeling like a sow's ear trying to be a silk purse, if that's even what I wanted, or he would be willing to give. I still had no clue what he was really after all this time, beyond getting me under his thumb as he'd been trying to do all along. I looked away, defeated. "I'll think about it, all right?" I grumbled finally, just to get him off my case.

"Really? You'll consider it?" He pressed, his smile turning boyish and charming. In that moment, I hated him just a bit, the familiar feeling somewhat comfortable after all this time.

"Yes. Now will you stop bugging me about it every chance you get? It's starting to get old. You may want to change up your tactics," I hinted, just to be mean. "I have to get home, soon. It's getting dark." I stood up, watching a flicker of genuine regret float over his face before it was schooled away once again. "Your fingers are looking much better." I mentioned, suddenly not ready to leave.

"The stitches from the surgery healed evenly. They are confident that there will be little to no scarring."

"They?" I prodded. "Witches or doctors?" Modern medicine had been stunted since the Turn, but Trent had plenty of avenues to choose from in that department, most of the illegal bio drug industry being paid for by his deep pockets.

"A little of both," he admitted. "If you want to know any more, you'll have to come work with me to find out." He wiggled the digits that had been replaced with a minimum of stiffness. I couldn't berate him for the replacements, however he'd come by them. He'd lost the fingers because of me.

"I uh, gotta go," I reiterated, "and I am kinda stuck here unless you want to give me a ride."

"I'll have a car take you," he replied, standing up as well. He made his way over to the intercom. "Clancy, have a car brought around for Miss Morgan," he ordered into it.

I rode back home in comfort and style, never having to step outside until I'd arrived at my church. I made the dash, freezing my butt off all the while, hating how long the walk from the curb to the front door was and resolving to get myself a disguise with a winter coat the next time I spelled. Shrill pixy laughter swirled about the sanctuary as I pushed the door shut against the stiff wind that sprang up from outside.

Jenks met me halfway to the kitchen, sparkling dust red with worry. "Rache! Are you ok? When you fainted I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

"I'm good, Jenks. I just really needed some sleep, I guess. Hey, is Ivy here?"

"She went to Rynn's as soon as she woke up. She wants you to call her on her cell asap."

"Trouble in Vampville?"

"Not really. She was getting edgy and thought she ought to feed in case you came home all hot and bothered again. By the way, what were you doing when you got yanked over to Trent's?"

I sighed. "I was kissing a Pierce look-alike. I thought it was him at the time. Turns out, I'm just an idiot. End of story." I made fast strides to the kitchen, needing something a little stronger than tea if I was going to make it through the next ten hours with my wits about me.

"It was Al, wasn't it?" Jenks demanded, dust spilling behind as he paced me on my way toward sweet caffeine. "I knew I smelled demon in here."

"Well, it certainly wasn't Ku'Sox," I snapped, grabbing up my mug from the rack by the sink. Ivy must have washed it while I was snoozing away at Trent's.

"So, what are you like his demon girlfriend now?" He floated in front of me with his hands on his hips.

"He tricked me. I thought he was Pierce. He's a very convincing actor when he tries to impersonate somebody."

"Are you and Pierce…?"

"NO! Turn take it, Jenks, it was a one-time thing. I'm mad as hell that he tricked me and madder still that he used my history with Pierce to do it. I'm going to scream his ear off when I see him."

"It looked like more than just a kiss," Jenks teased, flitting out of the way as I took a swipe at him. "It looked like you _liked _it. Al and Rachel, sitting in a tree," he sing-songed. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G."

"Jenks! Shut it! What are you, like twelve?"

He quit singing in favor of turning his back to me with his arms wrapped around himself, making smoochy noises and wiggling provocatively.

"Fine. You just amuse yourself at my expense. I'm going to go call Ivy. I gotta go back soon and I have way too much crap to do. Have you seen Bis?"

Jenks quit pantomiming a make out session and turned back to me. "He's on your bed. He's been moping since you left, I'll bet."

"Great. Thanks." I threw up my hands and stalked to the phone, getting my call to Ivy over with before I dealt with my gargoyle. It wasn't my fault a summoning separated us. Without another leyline witch, like Pierce, he couldn't come after me. As soon as we got this bond thing sorted, he'd be able to find me anywhere. Until it was cemented, he could assist other witches in feeling the line, but we'd always get stuck apart if I was summoned, unless he was riding the summoning with me.

I picked up the phone, dialed Ivy's cell, and went to voicemail. "Ivy, I'm safe back at home, for the moment. I just needed to sleep off my exhaustion. No need to worry. I'll be back before dawn, if I leave before you get this. Have a good night."

I replaced the phone in its cradle, resolving to spend as much time with her during the weekends as I could. My new schedule had me in the everafter most of the time I was awake. This must have been what had Al so cheerful when we'd negotiated. It was winter, not yet the Solstice. The nights were longer than the days. It would be better for me in the Summer, but for the moment, he got the sweeter end of the deal. I ran over the terms again in my head as I entered my room to find Bis curled up on my bed. He looked rather dejected there, and my heart melted anew.

"Sorry, Bis," I said, settling down on the mattress beside him. "Next time I'll yell for you before I let the summoning have me."

"It's all right, Miss Rachel, you don't have to do that," he said, turning to fix his luminous red eyes on me. "I know it hurts you to resist."

"The pain would be totally worth it, to have you with me. I had to beg a ride from Trent." We pulled a face at one-another. I was glad that we were still good. "Is that why you came in to my room, because you missed me?"

"Of course. Your bed smells like you."

"My bed… my _bed_. Oh, Bis you're a genius. I think I just found my loophole to renegotiate the terms of my agreement with Al," I grinned in anticipation.

"He's slippery when it comes to this stuff, Rachel. You might not get your way."

"Even if I don't, it's Friday, right? I have weekends off."

"Thank Goodness for Fridays," Bis agreed.

"Well, Bis, are you all packed for our trip to the everafter?"

He looked around himself, as if running a silent inventory. "All packed," he declared.

"Well, then. Let's not keep my duplicitous demonic teacher waiting. I have a few bones to pick with him and a lot of spelling to do." I went to my closet and found my warmest coat for the trip outside. I didn't like disappearing in and out of my church. I felt like if I got too demonic with the lines while inside, the hallowed ground might reject me. It was just a silly bit of superstition, but it made me feel better to do my line-jumping in the yard.

I made my way out through the back sitting room and paused just as I was about to pass out of it and into the kitchen as something on the t.v. caught my eye. All the pixy children were gathered around it with Jenks, watching the news. I wandered over to the coffee table to grab the remote, raising the volume so I could hear.

"…. no witnesses to the crime have yet come forward. Again, if you're just joining us, the breaking news story of the hour is that persons unknown have stolen the figure at the top of the fountain, known as the Spirit of Cincinnati, defacing the city's most recognized public landmark. No groups have come forward to claim the theft and no demands of ransom have yet been made. We go live to fountain square, where field correspondent Marlene Wales is standing by."

"Thank you Tricia. I'm here with officials of both Interland Security and the Federal Interland Bureau as they investigate this tragic act of terrorism on the city's most beloved landmark…"

I tuned out most of what the reporter was saying as I scanned the scene behind her for familiar faces. I saw Glenn standing off to the side, talking with Ivy. It looked like mass confusion as both the IS and the FIB worked to determine jurisdiction over the scene, or tried to come around to some sort of collaboration on the investigation. The were reporter stared out at me with a serious face, interspersed with shots from the news helicopter, showing the milling crowd of law-enforcement agents around a fountain that was missing the finial. Yellow tape marked the boundary, where hundreds of people gathered in the snow on the street. The entire thing looked like a giant cluster-fuck in my opinion, but now I knew why Ivy wasn't answering her phone.

"That… sucks." Jenks proclaimed, mirroring my sentiment. I'd always loved that fountain, and the bronze, life-sized greco-roman representation of a woman at the top, with her outstretched arms spraying water over the sides had been my favorite part. The fountain was naked and incomplete without her.

I wanted to know more, but at the moment, the press wasn't being told anything else. There was nothing I could do, so I left the investigating to the professionals until they had somebody for me to tag. Until then, I had a job to do of my own, an ass to kick, and new spells to stir. None of that was going to get done on its own.

"Keep me posted, Jenks. I gotta run."

"Sure thing, Rache."

I swung my coat over my shoulders, motioned for Bis, and went out into the night.

a/n

So the plot begins to thicken. I want to thank everybody for their awesome reviews. You guys rock my socks! You give me the strength to push on through and keep writing when I feel like I'm stuck. I do it all for you, so keep 'em coming!

Next up, Al gets his comeuppance… or does he? Rachel gets more spelling done, and the shrimps get eaten.


	8. Dinner and a Showdown

I arrived in Al's kitchen with a minimum of fuss. Bis was getting better at hearing the right lines, and we'd been this way often enough that we were nearly on auto-pilot for the trip. I brushed the errant flakes of snow out of my frizzy mass of hair, noting that the place always looked exactly the same since the cleanup of the mess Al's fight with Ku'Sox had made. Of all the things that I never saw again, the menacing tapestry had to have been the thing I was most glad of. I scanned the room for Al so I could lay into him right away. As I looked, my eyes lit on Pierce's visage and I had to bite back a growl of annoyance.

He wore his customary printed shirt and vest with a chain for a watch hanging from the vest pocket, his hair combed back and his shoes neatly polished. He looked like nothing so much as a glorified butler with his hands held behind his back. "Mistress Witch, I am pleased to see you looking so well. When you collapsed, I had feared for the worst." It looked like Pierce, and sounded like him, but I wasn't buying it.

"Knock it off, Al. I'm not playing this game today." I crossed my arms over my middle and canted a hip to the side. As much as I liked to play with my disguises, I couldn't work up a really _good_ intimidating stance without my kick-ass boots and leather pants. Bis uncurled from my shoulder and stalked off to lurk in the shadows over his favorite book case. My mood must have infected him somewhat, because he was taking on the fluid grace of a predator and he pulled his most menacing face as he found his perch, his tail swishing agitatedly.

"The demon is not at home," Pierce blinked in confusion. "He had some business to attend and had me wait here to give you his regrets that he could not be in attendance. He left a list of instructions for you." He gestured with the list, a slip of parchment yellowing with age.

I kept a wary distance between us and squinted at him. I felt for sure that, rested, I'd be able to see through his lies. "Fool me once, shame on you," I told him, leaving the rest unsaid. "Leave the instructions on the table and go do whatever it is you do when you're not around."

He sighed and placed the list he'd been holding on the table. "Mistress Witch, I am… I have powerful regrets for my part in the bad business of your banishment."

"I know," I said, skirting his reach. I turned to fiddle with the list but kept him in my peripheral vision.

"I thought we had gotten past it," he pressed on, hurt evident in his tone.

"Oh, don't worry _Pierce,_" I bit out. "That's all water under the troll bridge."

"I must say, then, that I am perplexed by your coldness toward me. Have I done else wrong?"

"If you are who you _appear _ to be, then I'm not mad at you. If, however, you are really Al, yanking my chain again, then I have only one thing to say to you. Do it again, and Newt won't have to carry through on her threat. I'll do it myself."

"I know not of what you speak, but I will be sure to send the message along. Whatever it is, it sounds dire, and my heart would know naught but joy should dire things befall my gaoler."

"Great. So we're agreed, then. I'll read the list and get started and you'll leave me to it."

"I have been instructed not to leave you here alone. The demon was adamant about that. You are not entirely safe here, should another demon come calling without one of us here to help you protect yourself. At the very least, there is strength in numbers."

"Fine. Just keep your distance."

Pierce raised his hands slightly, looking at them as if he had no idea what to do with them, before giving up and dropping them to his sides. "As you wish," he said finally, shaking his head with sadness. "Just know that I will always cherish the time we spend together, whether you are avoiding me or not."

"It's a nice thought, Pierce. Hold on to it until Al gets back." I knew I was being cruel, but I was falling into the old adage of 'once bitten, twice shy.' I didn't particularly like the feeling of having my emotions messed with through pretense and costume. I wanted to be sure it was really Pierce talking to me before I let him any where near me. I busied myself with reading the list while the other half of my brain was watching for any Al-like behavior from my glorified babysitter.

The first thing he wanted me to do was prep another three batches of disguise spells and leave them to the side until we could decide on the disguises themselves. I felt a little put off that he'd want to have a say in what I chose to look like, but since I wasn't sure if Al was Pierce, I thought it best not to tick him off on the second day on the job. So I prepped the uninvoked potion and bottled it as instructed, using the half-hour simmer time to study the book on Latin, also as instructed.

Pierce spent the time dusting shelves and randomly puttering about. He engaged Bis in a low conversation while he dusted that shelf, and little by little, my gargoyle relaxed enough to become animated and friendly. I paid close attention to the interaction, noting that my gargoyle's seal of approval was a very good sign. Still, I wasn't quite sure.

About the time my potion was ready, Pierce pulled out a box from beneath the counter and placed it on top of the table. I cleaned up my work station and watched him with interest. It was a fairly nondescript box, as far as boxes went. Wood, most likely, with a hinged lid, slightly larger than a breadbox. He opened the box and white mist came pouring out, like dry ice in Halloween cauldrons. From within the box, he lifted out the bag of shrimp that Al and I had purchased from the grocery store the night before, a block of cheese, a bottle of white wine, and a stick of butter. The box seemed too small to hold all that. In curiosity, I rounded the counter to look inside.

He closed the lid before I got the chance and carried it back to put it under the counter. "What is it?" I asked, longing to take the box back from him and get a look.

"It is a spelled box. It links to the cold room where the demon keeps his food," he replied with studied nonchalance. "He made it so that I could retrieve the items needed to prepare our supper without leaving this room. After my first escape from my shackle, he took away my ability to move between rooms without his sending me specifically. He said that he had gotten weary of the need to send me to the cold room whenever he desired a sandwich."

"It's neat," I said, feeling suddenly sorry for the crap Pierce had to put up with daily. "Would you like some help making dinner?"

"As much as I would love to cook with you, you have other things that you must attend. I swan I can complete the meal on my own, although I appreciate the offer."

"Pierce… I'm sorry. It's just that Al had used your appearance the other night to make me think that he was you. I'm not mad at you."

"Rachel, what did he do to you?" he asked, turning to regard me with compassion in his eyes. Compassion turned to flinty steel as he contemplated all that Al could have done with his form. "If he touched you…"

"He kissed me. That was all." He turned brick red at my pronouncement and I raised a hand to forestall any tirade he might have undertaken. "I think he might have done it to keep me away from you, to make me doubt whether I was dealing with him or not. After my reaction today, I can't say it didn't work."

"That demon's manipulative nature knows no bounds," he seethed, turning to grip the countertop behind him.

I went to him, to lay a comforting hand on his tense shoulder. "It's ok, now. I'm certain who I'm dealing with, here. I'm just sorry for being such a bitch to you earlier. You don't deserve me taking my bad moods out on you."

"Mistress Witch, that language is unbecoming a lady," he scolded lightly, though he had to have gotten used to my potty mouth by then. It seemed like he was just acting out of habit.

"Sorry," I said. "I'd still like to help with dinner."

"It is but a little thing," he replied to my apology. "I have gotten quite good at the culinary aspect of my imprisonment here. It is one task that I do enjoy. Please, complete your list or your teacher shall be quite cross with the both of us." He turned from his tense pose at the counter and gave me a half smile.

"Right. Still friends?" I asked, wanting him to be sure of where I stood, despite what had come between us before. I smiled brightly, hoping that I hadn't hurt him yet again.

He sighed, getting the hint, and smiled ruefully back at me. "I am honored to be called a friend."

"Good. Don't let me keep you from your favorite chore. I'll be over there… conjugating or whatever." I waived a hand in a nervous gesture and went to hide in my comfy chair behind my Latin book like a coward. I watched surreptitiously while Pierce pulled out the bunsen burner rig and set about frying up the shrimp with white wine and butter. I tried to concentrate on my Latin, I really did, but my thoughts were spinning off into so many directions that studying a dead language was shunted off to the side more than once. What was I going to say to Al? The kiss had been one of the best that I could think of at the moment, but perhaps it had all been just a ruse to manipulate me into doing whatever Al wanted. For all my anger at being tricked, I hand't ever really contemplated how I felt about being kissed. By Al. I had been blindsided, that much was true, and totally thrown off my game. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a niggling voice spoke out.

My reactions had stemmed largely from the way I thought I _should_ react. Since I had determined not to worry about what I should be doing, but rather what I wanted and needed to be doing, I had to figure out why I thought that I should act that way. The first thing I had to admit to myself was that I was ashamed. I was acting like the popular girl who had kissed a nerd. I knew my friends did not approve of Al (having been threatened or abused by him on one occasion or another) so, since I wanted their approval, I acted all high and mighty and royally pissed that he'd tricked me into it. Another part of me hated feeling like a fool. A much larger part of me _really_ hated being manipulated. Rather than go off on a tirade the first time I set eyes on him, giving him the reaction he expected, I needed to take some of the control back from him. The only way to do that was to act in a way he didn't expect. I needed to be cool about this. I had to learn to play this game and find out why he did what he did, instead of letting my emotions get the better of me.

I gave up the Latin study as a bad job. The smell of shrimp scampi was enough to get my mind off of everything else beyond getting those succulent little things into my belly. If I had any lingering doubts as to whether Pierce was himself, his ability with the cooking spoke of long practice in the kitchen, not momentary pretense. "That smells amazing, Pierce," I said, dropping my book into the chair as I got up.

"I have yet to make the pasta," he chided warmly. "You should continue at your studies until the meal is complete."

"I can't concentrate on Latin right now."

"Then you should start on the next task on your list."

"Yes, mother," I grumped. "Bis?"

"Yes, Ms Morgan?" Bis perked right up on his perch.

"We're supposed to do this next part together," I informed him.

Bis slithered from the high shelf and dropped the rest of the way to the floor. "How can I help?"

"Well," I began as I looked over the list once more, "we're to try to bring our consciousnesses into greater alignment so that you and I can get better at jumping the lines to anywhere at will. Al left us with a book title and page number for reference, so I suppose I ought to find that, first."

Al's cataloguing system left a lot to be desired. He didn't use any sort of shelving order as much as I could tell. He tended to group the books by age and appearance rather than by title, author, or subject matter. Dinner was done before I ever found the right volume and as Pierce was busy cooking, I thought it best to leave him to it rather than ask for his assistance. Pierce laid out plates and silverware and Bis and I resolved to find the book after we had eaten. Figuring it wouldn't hurt our chances in the slightest at 'bringing our consciousnesses into greater alignment', I had Bis sit on my lap while Pierce served up the plates of food. I traced the lines in my mind while I waited.

I felt a tingle go up my spine shortly before Al arrived. I knew he was coming before I ever saw the shimmer in the air where he would appear. "That's just too freaky," I whispered to Bis. "Is it like that all of the time with you?"

As Al began taking form, Bis nodded. "I like it. I like knowing what's coming before it happens."

"Very handy," I agreed.

"Ah," Al said as he finished materializing. "I see I made it back just in time for dinner." He approached the table and sat just as Pierce finished dishing out another plate of food. He set it before Al, who whipped out his napkin and placed it on his lap. Pierce made another place setting for himself and covered what was left as Al rolled a hand through the steam coming off his plate, savoring the smell. "I must say that you have outdone yourself this time, my familiar." Al seemed to be in a great mood. He usually bit into Pierce with the insults first thing. I said nothing and waited for Pierce to sit before I lifted my fork toward my plate.

Since Al didn't tell Pierce to go away and was letting him eat with us, I figured he was in an even better mood than I had thought. I really hoped it had nothing to do with our kiss, because I was going to burst that little bubble of happiness as soon as the meal was over. Pierce looked like he needed the calories, so I held my piece until he'd gotten a chance to consume as much as he wanted so Al wouldn't send him to bed without his supper.

I twirled linguini around my fork and speared a couple of the shrimps on the end. I got in maybe two bites before Al spoke again. "So, how did your independent studies go, my student? Did you get very far?" I dropped my fork and stared for a moment. Al's nonchalant attitude was really starting to wear. The fact that he inquired about my progress, like it was just a normal day in a normal situation made my blood nearly boil. Before I could open my mouth and say something inflammatory, I took a deep breath and willed myself calm.

"I prepped the base of the disguise curse, spent some time on my Latin studies and was hunting for the book you referenced for working with Bis."

"The burner's out on the counter. Did you not float the flame like we worked on?" he inquired, twirling linguini like the answer really didn't matter. I heard no threat in his tone, nor did it sound like he would be disappointed or happy, one way or the other.

"The burner was for Pierce. He used it to cook the food. I floated the flame just as we practiced. It only added a couple of minutes to the prep time."

"Hmm. Well, I had hoped you would have made more progress. Your attunement with your gargoyle will have to wait. I've just been to see about the new construction. Tron still wants that car you agreed on, and though your untimely demise put a bit of a cabosh on all the new plans, he's ready to go ahead with them whenever you are. I figured there was no time like the present. You wouldn't want to spend a thousand years in a bottle over a silly little arrangement between equals, believe me."

"My agreement with… oh. I remember. We made that deal right after I woke up from making that first Tulpa." Al nodded, still eating and looking anywhere but at me. "Last time I made one, I woke up three days later in your kitchen. If I make one tonight, that will mean that I won't get my weekend. Can't this wait until Monday? Unless you _like_ cleaning me up when I crap myself."

"Nonsense. Item construction on this level should barely make you yawn."

"I haven't had enough practice to say that for sure," I argued. "I _fainted_ after our last lesson, Al."

"You seemed fine to me," he said with a decidedly casual air.

"This was _after_ I got summoned out of the kitchen." I wasn't even remotely ready to broach the topic of what had occurred between his kitchen and leaving mine.

"Interesting," he said smoothly. "I haven't given you a quarter of the training you're yet to receive and you're already giving in to magical fatigue."

"Don't patronize me, Al. Ceri said that it was perfectly normal and I'm not about to let you goad me into doing something rash like biting off more than I can chew right now."

"It's only that, being a demoness, you should have a larger capacity for working with energy than that of a garden variety familiar. Perhaps I had overestimated your capabilities."

"Considering I spent the first half of my life barely able to stand up for more than five minutes at a time, I'd say my capabilities are pretty great!" I stood and slapped my hands to the table as I leaned over and glowered at him.

"Sit down, Rachel, and eat your food. The runt went to all the trouble of preparing it. It's rude to let it go to waste," he said, boredom leaking from every pore.

"Oh, hell. Fine. I'll do the job if you promise I get to sleep in my own bed once it's over. I spent the morning at Trent's and had to beg a ride. I wasn't happy about it, either. One more morning like that and I'm going to Newt about breach of contract."

"Relax, Itchy Witch. After this gig, it won't even be an issue."

The rest of the meal passed by in an uneasy silence. I held my tongue to keep Al from taking anything out on Pierce, and Pierce, for his part, was doing the same. Al seemed merely content to eat his food and plan and plot in the confines of his own thoughts. If I were to look up 'poker face' in the dictionary, I was relatively sure I'd find Al's picture underneath.

Cleanup was also a silent affair. Plates and pans disappeared along with Pierce to places unseen. I wondered exactly how many rooms Al still had access to, considering his propensity for sending Pierce and other things off to said places. "Bis, go to the library," Al commanded. "Treble is waiting for you there."

"I thought you lost the library," I muttered, mostly to myself.

"I got it back. It was a little thing. Newt held onto it for me for when I could pay her what it was worth."

"So whose life, exactly, paid the price of your old room?" I glared at him, foot tapping.

"No one's," he blinked in surprise. "She traded the tape measurer for it."

I sighed, rarely if ever understanding the price demons put on things. Bis looked up at me from my lap with luminous, sad eyes. "Better do as he says. I'm sure you'll learn a lot from Treble."

"I don't like her. She's mean."

"Well, you try being Al's gargoyle for hundreds of years and see what kind of temperament you end up with," I whispered down to him.

"I'd rather be yours," he said with earnest eyes and I gave his scaly hide a soft hug.

"I'd rather that, too. Now, go on. Learn something and make me proud." Bis nodded and hopped down from my lap. Once on the floor, he began shifting from the size of a house cat to a full-grown doberman. I didn't think Treble would be that impressed, considering all gargoyles could change their size at will, but I didn't mention the thought. If it made Bis feel better about himself, then I wasn't going to disillusion him. He gave his tail one last irritated flick in Al's direction and was gone.

"Alone at last," Al said, the corner of his aristocratic lips quirking up at the side. "I must say, I admired your forbearance earlier. I was anticipating hysterics of some sort or another, considering our last encounter."

I regarded him for a moment, trying to keep my face blank as I searched furiously for the words that wouldn't make me sound like a harpy, a child, or a raving madwoman in an instant. After a few heartbeats, his smirk fell away and he was regarding me with a blank expression to match my own. In the end, I decided on the direct approach. "Why did you kiss me?"

He made a tsking sound in the back of his throat and looked away for a moment. When his goat-slitted eyes met mine again, they were filled with annoyance. "That's it? That's your big question?"

"Well, I figured it wasn't because you wanted to go steady," I said levelly. "As a matter of fact, I can think of several reasons why you would do such a thing, including but not limited to driving me insane. I just wondered if I could trust you to be up-front and honest with me for even a moment." My toe was tapping once more in agitation and I made a concentrated effort to still the hell out of it.

"God, Rachel. Is it too unfathomable to think that someone of the male persuasion might just want to kiss you? Is your self-esteem so low that you must read other motives into it, to make it make sense?"

"Oh, come on. Save the incredulous act for someone who has no idea who you are. If you just HAD to kiss me, why do it as Pierce? Why the pretense? Why the lies?"

"Well, what if I wanted you to kiss me back? What if I thought that was the only way you would?"

"On to the hypotheticals, eh? For God's sake, Al!"

"Well, why don't you tell me why you thought I did it and I can laugh at you." He blinked rapidly, as if nervous or agitated. I could be relatively sure that it was all an act and that I needed to do something to shake his inner calm.

I knew just the thing, but I wasn't ready to employ it yet. I decided to play the game a little longer, to see just how deep a hole he wanted to dig before I employed my master plan. "Well, you might have done it to keep me from sleeping with Pierce when you left us alone together today, after Newt said he was ok to be on my menu."

"That was one reason," he conceded. "Go on."

"But that's assuming that you care whether or not I decide to take that into consideration. Either you're jealous of who I sleep with, or you want to make Pierce as miserable as possible and me giving it to him doesn't figure into the plan." I began pacing, as if the conundrum bothered me beyond belief. Although it bothered me, the idea of Al wanting to kiss me just to do so was scarier than any master plan of manipulation he might be cooking up.

"I do so enjoy making his life a misery. He is mine. I own him. If I want him to be miserable, he will be."

"But why, Al? What did he ever do to you, besides trying to kill you and almost getting me dead, as well… never mind. I guess you have enough reason, even without the fact that he and I did the horizontal tango once." I watched him carefully from the corner of my eye so as not to miss his reaction to my pronouncement. I wasn't disappointed. He visibly flinched. I continued on as if I hadn't seen. "I had to admit, you had me going there for a while. You had his puppy-dog eyes to a tee. I almost believed it, but you slipped up so badly, you had to have done it on purpose. When I saw him standing here, I almost decked him, thinking he was you. I talked to Ceri when I woke up today. I gained some valuable insights into your motives from that conversation. You obviously wanted me to know that you were the one who was kissing me."

"Well, obviously. Couldn't have you falling into his arms without me around to stop it."

"Ah, well that makes sense." I halted in my pacing, turning at last to face my him. Al. My attacker. My tormentor. My nemesis. The thing that waited under my bed for so long that fear was a knee-jerk reaction. My captor, my teacher, my protector. Ceri might have formed a sort of twisted attachment to him, a kind of Stockholm syndrome, but I had no excuses to give. I simply didn't hate him any more. I stared at the bench situated around the central fire, remembering waking there after having my soul laid bare to his eyes. I remembered how he agonized over how fragile I was, how vulnerable. A year ago, he would have taken full advantage of any vulnerability of mine and flaunted it, reveled in it. Now, he tried to save me from things that went bump in the night, forgetting that he used to be one of those things to me. What exactly was he trying to protect me from? I lifted my eyes to his with deadly seriousness. "It makes sense as long as I take into account the idea that you were lying to me."

He seemed to cower under my gaze, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. How much of it was real? How much was an act? Was it some deep game he was playing with my psyche, or was this simply him, trying not to want me? Did he kiss me out of love or did he kiss me out of hate?

I could think of only one way to find out. Steeling my resolve, I clenched my hands into fists and told myself that whatever the outcome, nothing would ever be the same between us. "Were you lying, _Al_?"

"Rachel, you know I can't lie."

"I think I know you can't lie. That might be the biggest lie of all. I know you can't give your word and go back on it without dire consequences, but I've been given no proof that, without circling your ass, you can't outright lie. I promised I would never circle you, so where does that leave me, hmm?" My toe went to tapping again, and I let it. I wanted him to know that I was losing my patience with the game.

"Look, we have a job to do and this is wasting valuable time. Don't you want to get about your weekend?"

"Of course I do, but I'm not leaving until we get this settled. You said we could talk about this after. Well, it's after, so let's talk."

"What difference does it make?" he asked, finally throwing his hands up in irritation. "Either you go on hating me, or you think I'm a sentimental ass. I would say that I don't give a fig what you think of me, but a demon has an image to maintain. I'd rather you think the worst of me so we can just _get on with the job_."

"What are you afraid of, Al, Newt? Do you think that if you somehow actually come to care for me, she'll take me away from you?"

"I'm afraid of _YOU_, ALL RIGHT?" he exploded. "You could be what makes me a success or you could be the ruin of me. Keeping things professional may be the only way to avert my own undoing. So, yes. I manipulated you and got a little play in the bargain, knowing you would be pissed at me for it and I would never have to worry about being one of your casualties," he sneered, twisting the knife in deep.

I took in a breath with the pain of the barb, hearing in it all of the honesty of what I've always known. Loving me was akin to a death sentence. Kisten could attest to that. In that moment, I hated Al worse than I had ever hated him before. Painful truths were the stock-and-trade of demonkind, so I had better get used to owning up to mine. I let out a shuddering breath, holding back tears at the pain of it all. "Great. Just great. Now I'm all pissed at you again."

"I'm sorry, Rachel. I really am, but some day you will thank me."

"You know what happens when I get pissed off. I act out. I can't help it. I have a temper. Must be a demon thing." I started toward him, stalking slowly, menace evident in my eyes.

"Now, Itchy Witch…" he chuckled nervously, "Let's not do anything hasty. I'd have to defend myself and I don't fancy having to call Pierce in here to mop up your greasy stain."

I kept coming and he kept retreating. I reveled in the power I held, the fear I instilled in the one who used to petrify me. I now knew he was afraid of me and that was better than any threat I could muster up myself. Noticing my enjoyment of intimidating him, he stopped in his tracks and puffed up his chest. "Now wait just a God Damned minute, here. I won't be your whipping boy for _any _reason." That brief moment he took to bluster was all I needed. I reached him, never slowing, and did the thing he wasn't expecting.

I kissed him.


	9. Concept to Completion

He stumbled back, falling against the wall, but I stayed with him. I tangled my fingers into his hair and held on, putting everything I had into the kiss. After a startled second or two, he moaned deeply and began kissing me back. Soon, the iron bands of his arms were wrapped around my waist as I let go of my hold on his head and sent my hands wandering over his shoulders and back. I felt myself being lifted, the two of us propelled backwards, until it was my back against a hard place. My legs wrapped about his waist with only a thought.

Our tongues dueled for supremacy and I tingled all over as my added weight gave him not a moment's pause. For the moment, I felt infinitely small and delicate against his sheer strength and I reveled in it, even as I reminded myself of the need to maintain control. I traced the line through his thoughts and gave a hard pull. He groaned again as his knees buckled underneath us. I could feel the impact of the floor on his knees to my bones, but I never let up. I sent him backwards, maintaining my grip until he was on his back at last. When I knew he was definitely down, I untangled my legs until I was only straddling him, not pinned as well. I gave his pelvis a hard grind with my own and I swear I heard him whimper even as he thrust back up to meet me.

I timed my pulls on the line with the grind of my hips over his hard length, releasing his mouth at last so I could breathe. I had to breathe, had to think, while I did my level best to turn his mind to mush beneath me. It was more difficult to do than I had anticipated. He traced the line back through me, more a reflex of instinct than a conscious effort and I had to admit it felt good. Really good. I lost sight of my original purpose in a breathless moment of sparkling pleasure, my toes curling involuntarily in my kick-ass boots as his mouth sent nips and licks over the flesh of my neck. We groaned and panted in tandem as sweet desire and agonizing passion torrented through our bodies.

The line was a ribbon of delight and we played a game of tug-of-war with it in fits and starts and vibrating flutters. We wrestled together on the floor like animals as power switched hands that grasped and stroked as we willed them. I let out a surprised moan when Al managed to flip us both so that it was my back on the floor, marveling once again at his display of strength and my visceral reaction to it. He pulled responses from me that I hardly knew were there, and I felt rather than heard the rumbling groans I got in return. Neither of us seemed to have retained the power of intelligent speech; wordless cries and encouraging whimpers were all that remained to be had. We battled for supremacy with every ounce of strength our bodies possessed, and in my case, resorted to cajoling seductions to get it. At last, he let me flip him once more, giving in to my need to be on top. I heard no complaints from his end as he set about attacking my neck with blunt teeth scraping over sensitive scars buried beneath the surface. The added stimulation had me writhing on top of him, scrambling to find a way to best him in this, grappling for the power I knew must reside within me somewhere that would allow me to bring him to the brink, but I was just as lost as he, if not more so.

I gave up trying to win it like a game, communing fully with the line and the moment at hand. I felt a chime deep within my soul as my connection was complete. I felt Al join a moment later, our thoughts twining and cavorting in the red hazy wash of it. Climax dangled just within reach and I grabbed for it with little thought to anything else. My back arched, my body drawn tight as a bow, as a shriek of fulfillment ripped through me. Distantly, I heard him roar right along side and I collapsed, panting on his heaving chest.

I held back the tears of catharsis that wanted to flow. I had forgotten, in my quest to put Al in his place, how long it had been since I'd been with someone. My averted climax that very morning had weakened me, as well, and at the slightest urging, my resolve had crumbled into dust. When pleasure beckoned, I followed. I was a stupid, stupid witch.

Guilt came and went. All that was left was damage control. My hammering pulse slowed as I frantically thought for a way to salvage something of the mess I'd just gotten myself into. Silence reigned, broken only by harsh breathing returning to normal rhythms as we processed what had just happened. I had been right about one thing: everything had changed. I swallowed, cleared my tortured throat, and tried to think fast past the tingle of afterglow. Rallying courage, I lifted my head and met his goat-slitted eyes with my own. A look of wonder was plastered on his face, leaving his visage smooth and unwrinkled and looking impossibly young, goat eyes aside.

Resisting the urge to jump up and begin straightening my clothes, I propped my forearms on his chest and gazed down at him, still straddling him, still holding him down. "It's not very pleasant," I began, "is it?"

A startled huff of laughter left him, jostling me with the movement of his chest. "'Pleasant' isn't the adjective I would use to describe what happened just now, no." He peered up at me curiously, release having left him languid and redolent. He gifted me with one of his rare, real half-smiles. "But since you seem to be ahead of the curve, just now, perhaps you'd like to share what thoughts are running through that itchy mind of yours with the rest of the class, hmm?" He smoothed back my frizzy hair with a soft hand, the gesture tender and loving and so at odds with him that I nearly choked on what I was about to say next.

"It's not _pleasant_ to have your emotions messed with, so I'd appreciate if, in the future, you'd remember that. Don't mess with mine again."

The play of emotions on his face happened in quick succession and I watched avidly for every one. "Emotions messed with…?" Curiosity turned to confusion, to comprehension, to anger, and finally to a flinty-cold mask of a smile. "So noted," he said in a clipped voice, tendrils of his anger leaking through. "I suppose this makes us even."

"Not even. At least I let you come," I scoffed.

"Fine. Now get off me," he growled and I jumped up as if burned. If looks alone could kill, the fire of retribution dancing in his eyes would have scorched me on the spot as he stood as well, smoothing the wrinkles out of his crushed velvet. He regained a bit of his polish and composure, though crackling sparks in his gaze still looked as though they wanted to roast me. "Just know this. Student or no, last hope of demonkind or no, if you _ever_ do that again, you will wish with every fibre of your being that Daddy Kalamack had left well enough alone. Are we clear?"

I tossed my head in annoyance. "Crystal. And if _you _ever use somebody I care about to trick me into that again, Newt won't need to neuter you. I'll nail your balls to the stone table at the mall. Are _we _clear?"

"My, how the kitten has found her claws. So. Be. It."

"Until the two worlds collide," I affirmed. I wanted no doubt as to the seriousness of our oaths.

"And ever after," he agreed. We didn't bother to shake on it. Our word was enough, and by the way we were glaring at one another in hatred, it was obvious that even that small amount of contact was too distasteful to us both.

"Well, now that that bit of business is complete, we still have a job to do," he sniffed, tugging at the lace in his sleeves. "Shall we get on with it so I may send you home and out of my hair for the next few days?"

"Please."

"Excellent." He stalked over to the giant calling glyph he had mounted to the wall and slapped a hand to it. "Algaliarept calling Strontanchaark. Yes, I'll accept the charges." I snorted and rolled my eyes at the expression, then paced to the bookshelf where I pretended to read the titles. "Tron," he said with false enthusiasm. "Good news. You're getting a brand new car tonight. There's just the little matter of how we're going to get it to you." He paused for a moment as Tron made a reply. "Mmmhmmm. Well, travel expenses are included in the cost, you know. Yes, yes, all very standard as we both remember. A trip for two, one-way. I'll handle the trip back. Sure. See you in a mo'." He gestured impatiently for me to join him by the mirror. I sighed and stalked to his side, carefully not touching him as I laid a hand on the glyph. My thoughts made contact with the collective, and through it, Tron. In that instant, we were away.

I rematerialized in a rectangular room with unfinished walls and hip-height workbenches and air that smelled, amongst the burnt amber, like motor oil. Tools and bits of machinery lined the benches of what looked like nothing so much as a pre-turn garage with a concrete floor, a single dark window, and a bay of fluorescents overhead producing a flickering facsimile of green-tinted light. The space in the very middle of the garage was empty. Adjacent to the empty spot, leaning against a workbench, was a demon who bore a striking resemblance to a 1950's greaser in blue jeans, white tee-shirt. slicked-back hair, and a leather jacket to complete the look. If not for the slight protuberances of horns on his forehead, the affectation would have been perfect.

"So which are you," I quipped, "Shark or Jet?"

He grinned, showing pointy canine teeth. "Shark, of course," he replied, and tossed his head to fling back the single lock of hair that dared escape his coiffure.

"Right." Sarcasm was lost on so many. "Sooo, right here in the middle, I take it?"

"Yup," he nodded.

"Ok, Al. Let's do this." I had only ever done this with Newt's help, and I was afraid I'd forgotten the steps. I didn't want Tron to see just how nervous I was, so I sat on the floor with my legs crossed, just like Newt had made me sit before, and thought back to that fateful night with every ounce of concentration I possessed. I reached out to the collective, hearing all the noise that hadn't been present the last time. _Don't mind me,_ I thought ruefully, _just making a car, here. Please, go about your business._ I reached for the center of calm within, the empty place where a second soul would reside as I held it and nurtured it if I ever did have a child. It helped me blot out the noise and I sheltered for a moment in the stillness. I took in a deep, cleansing breath and let it out slowly, trying to forget that I was swimming naked through the collective, where any and all could see me. I felt as though I was standing in the median of a busy highway, the thoughts of so many others zipping to and fro, the wake of the displacement causing my mind to bob and shift in the waves.

I tried to be as unobtrusive as possible, but somebody was bound to take note.

I felt, rather than saw her, and our minds recognized each other over the humming din of so many transactions and line jumps going on at once. She drifted close to me, the stillness around her like a mandorla of emptiness, until finally that empty space enclosed and sheltered me. _Would you like me to kick them all out? _she offered, but I just shook my incorporeal head to the negatory and felt glad, for once, of her presence.

_Just keep them away from me for a moment, please. Just long enough for me to pop out this car._

_ Take all the time you need, _she replied, amusement evident in her tone. _You're still a beginner at this._

_ That's what _I _said._ Tinkling bells seemed to accompany her girlish laughter and I did my best not to cringe. Putting all else from my mind, I thought about the car I had gone cross-country in, sleeping and eating within its confines. For three days, it had been my home. I knew every stain, every nick in the upholstery by heart. It was a trial not to imagine Trent asleep in the passenger seat, or Ivy in the back munching on Milk Duds, or Jenks sitting high on the rearview mirror. Somehow, I managed not to supply the car with occupants. When I was ready to have the thing lifted out, I balked just a bit. In order to complete the thing, cementing it as real and not just as a thought (albeit, a well-flushed out one) in my head, I'd have to let Al in.

I was a stupid, stupid witch.

Seeing my unease, Newt smiled. _Fortune favors the brave_, she teased. _In this case, if you're ever going to make a fortune, best be brave._

I grumbled to myself a bit, then opened my eyes, my second sight blurring over everything, Al included. I gestured impatiently for him to sit on the floor in front of me and he complied, looking for all the world like he would rather do anything else. I closed my eyes tight, a frown of concentration taking up residence on my face, as I reached out a hand and felt Al's momentary hesitation at the door I opened for him. _Come on in, _I goaded. _Come see the freak show._

Just like that, he was there, standing beside me while the two of us looked down at the car sitting neat as you please in the garage, although I knew we were sitting off a little to the side. With my part over, I paid close attention to the sensations of having the car peeled back from my consciousness. When he was sure he had everything, I felt the gravity shift beneath me, until I was sitting once more, reality snapped firmly back into place.

I opened my eyes and looked over at the thing we had made, shining dully under the harsh green lights. It was my mother's car. My car. We'd done it.

Tron was cooing in delight, running his hands over the hood of the vehicle, laying a cheek against the room-temperature metal. "Oh, my sweet baby. You and I are going to have fun times." I tried not to make a face at the endearment and subsequent personification of the thing. It was his now, and he could be as creepy toward it as he liked. "I take it," he whispered happily, and I caught sight of a shadow of smut adhere to the fading black outline that was his aura as my second sight slipped away.

I stood from my seat on the floor, feeling light-headed. "Tired, now," I complained. "Take me home."

"As you wish, Rachel," Al said softly, but I was far too tired to care about what the hell he called me or how he said anything. I was going to sleep for half a day at least.

He took my arm in the crook of his own, crushed velvet soft under my fingertips. The gallant gesture was lost on me. All I cared about was the bed that awaited me in my nice, demon-free church. I still had that, at least. Hallowed ground didn't phase me one iota. If being bone-weary was the price I had to pay to be a demonic contractor, I was just about ready to retire.

Al shielded my thoughts for me in the line, as I was too slow to bring up a proper circle of my own in time. Dematerializing and rematerializing almost hurt. I stumbled a little on my feet as the floor became solid beneath them. When I looked up to see Al's library, I growled. "Home, Al. Not yours, mine."

"Just a quick stop. Wouldn't want to forget your gargoyle, now would you?"

"Ah, crap. Bis."

"Ms Morgan!" Bis cried, swooping down to land on my shoulder. Every line in the vicinity blazed flaming trails through my mind and I nearly squeaked in pain. "Are you all right?" The adolescent gargoyle's voice dripped with concern.

"Fine, Bis. Just tired. Need to go to bed."

"And to bed you shall go, Itchy Witch," Al declared as we spiraled off through the lines once more.

We landed in my own kitchen. For once, I didn't care that we were line jumping inside the church. It was close to midnight and the pixies should have been in bed around then. Ivy tended to be out of the church most nights, especially on a night when she had a run or an investigation to attend to. There was little to no chance that we'd be running into anybody on our way in, and with such a high-traffic area, the phrase 'running into' could be taken quite literally. Hell, I didn't even care that the Hallow spell might start catching on to my demonic DNA, the less I had to walk to reach my comfy mattress, the happier I'd be.

Bis hopped from my shoulder as I lurched to begin my plodding progress toward that end, but I was brought up short by a tug on my arm. I made a whimpering sound in the back of my throat as Al spun me back around to face him. "What now?" I whined. I hated being reduced to a petulant child, but that's what tired and cranky sometimes made me.

Al looked seriously into my eyes for a moment and softly began to speak. "For what it's worth, Rachel, I didn't lie."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Everything I said to you this morning, every word, I told true. I know you'll find that hard to believe." He lifted a hand to stroke my face and I shrank back from the action. He sighed and let his hand drop, though he still held my arm in a gentle, yet inescapable grasp. "I know you better than anyone. You can say I know you soul-deep, and I don't need to lie to you. You do enough of that for the both of us."

I yanked my arm back from him in indignation and swayed a little on my feet at the action, but I regained my balance and stood firm. "I'm no liar, Al. I didn't lie to you-or anyone, for that matter-so don't you _dare_ start pointing the finger at me, buddy."

"Rachel, Rachel. Jumping to conclusions again. I didn't say you were lying to me. I only meant that you are a master at lying to yourself. One day, I hope you can see that… never mind. I can tell this is only falling on deaf ears, so I will let you get your rest. Sweet dreams, Itchy Witch. I will see you on Monday." He turned to go. I didn't know why, but I felt I had to stop him.

"Al, you were so mad at me in your kitchen, and I don't blame you for it one bit. What changed?"

"You," he said simply. "You've changed, while I thought that was something impossible, any more. People don't change, at least in my considerable experience. You give me hope. Hope for us all." He regarded me thoughtfully for a long moment in which I felt my heart did not beat. "Go. Rest. I will have that book you wanted by Monday." In a shimmer, he was gone, and I stood by myself in my kitchen. I felt the sudden urge to wrap my arms around myself and cry.

A tentative claw touched my leg and I looked down. Bis looked up at me with love and compassion and with his sad eyes alone upon me, I finally let the tears go.

Cincinnati's lines glowed bright behind my burning eyelids as I felt a pair of large, scaly arms come around me, followed by the soft rasp of leathery wings. He'd made himself big to comfort me and all I could do was take what was offered and bury my face into his chest and hug back. A few wracking sobs later and I was completely spent. I felt myself gingerly lifted and jostled as he carried me the short distance toward my bed. He laid me down on the soft mattress, and before he could go, I gripped his arm. "Stay with me?" I begged, not wanting to be alone.

The bed shifted with the added weight as he settled down beside me and covered me with an arm and wing. "Always," he whispered, and I drifted, Cincinnati's lines singing me a lullaby to send me into a dreamless sleep.

A/N (Ducking flung objects) Ok, so they finally took it to the next level. Two steps forward, one step back, I always say. But hey, this is Al and Rachel we're talking about, here. You didn't expect sunshine and roses, did you?

The weekend lies ahead, so Rachel gets to hang in reality for a little bit. I'll be looking into the theft of the fountain's finial statue in the next chapter, and fear not! Al will be making an appearance again.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but I'm no mind reader. Please review! Thanks!


	10. Weekend

I opened my eyes and immediately shut them once more. The glare of the sun had positioned itself precisely through the gap in the curtains to fall on my face. I groaned and turned, then immediately startled. It took me a moment, but as my vision cleared I remembered that I had asked Bis to stay with me, and he had. The gargoyle had deflated to his more comfortable, catlike size as he slumbered. What's more, we'd been joined by Rex and a half-dozen of the pixies. My bed was certainly a popular spot at the moment.

As I listened to the soft sound of pixy snores and the low, rumbling purrs coming out of both my cat and my gargoyle, I glanced at the clock, noting that I had indeed slept half a day. I'd gone to bed at midnight, and now it was noon. Careful not to jostle anyone, I slid from the bed and tiptoed to my bathroom, snagging a full basket of laundry as I went.

As showers went, it wasn't the best I'd had, but it was close. By the time I stepped out of the stall, wrapping a towel around my head and a fluffy robe I'd snagged from Trent's penthouse suite in Seattle around my body, I felt almost sub-human again. I tossed my load of clothes into the washer and put my feet into a pair of slippers so I could brave the cold floors between my bathroom and kitchen in search of a pain amulet and some coffee. The church was silent and somnolent, my journey uninterrupted by anyone else. I busied myself with dumping out the previous pot's grounds from the filter into the compost bin, rinsing out the coffee pot, and pouring water into the reservoir as I waited for my head to stop its incessant pounding. Soon, the smell of brewing coffee wafted up from the gurgling appliance and I gave myself leave to grab another amulet, as the first one barely took the edge off.

Impatient, I snagged a cup out of the still-dripping coffeemaker in a deft maneuver with long-studied practice. My first sip was a bolt of pure, bitter, bracing bliss and I settled into my chair, content for the moment to think of nothing. Only two days at my new job and I was already missing my time of forced relaxation. My whole body felt sore and wrung out and my sleep schedule was all thrown to bits.

Minutes passed with the ticking of the kit-cat-clock someone had gifted me with a previous birthday or Solstice the only sound to be heard. Beyond the stillness of the church's inner sanctum, the chirping of winter birds could just be made out and the occasional hiss of a passing car played counterpoint. I stared into space, savoring my coffee, and resolved not to think about what Al had meant with his parting remarks the night before. Instead, I thought of Ivy. I wondered how her investigation into the disappearance of the Spirit of Cincinnati was going. I wondered if she spent the night with Glenn or if she managed to make it back to the church. All vamps, living or undead, tended to feel happiest in their homes. This was the place Ivy called her home, so it would make sense she'd want to spend her downtime here. I didn't want to assume, so I resolved to go take a peek to make sure.

I shuffled down the hall and opened her door a crack to look in on her. The room was dark as pitch and my eyes took a moment to adjust, but I was finally satisfied to see her lumpy form outlined in the small shaft of light cast by the open door under her black sheets. I closed the door gently, holding the doorknob turned until the door met the frame and turned it back slowly, until the mechanism slid back into place without a sound. That done, I found myself at a loss for something to do. I meandered back into the kitchen and went to sit with my coffee mug.

What had escaped my notice before was clear to me on a second look. Al had left the Latin book and three uninvoked phials of disguise potion on the counter. He must have known I was going to get bored, the bastard. Sighing, I reached out and slid the Latin book over in front of me and cracked the cover. I didn't want to bother with anything more strenuous than reading, while still hurting from the night before. I whiled away the hour with reading each chapter and completing the little assessment tests at the end of each. I got through about three before the sounds of pixy activity bursting into life distracted me. I closed the book in relief.

Shrieks and the clatter of pixy wings heralded the approach of the hurricane of brightly colored silks and pixy dust. Janice led a bevy of Jenks's daughters into the kitchen. Seeing me, they flew to a stop in a line, suddenly pretending not to be up to some mischief. I smiled as "Good afternoon, Miss Morgan," was piped from them in unison.

"Good afternoon, Janice, Jocelynn, Jixy, Josephine, Jrixibell," I replied, naming them in turn. "What are you into today?"

The four of them blanched, noting they'd been caught out. "Well, we were going to play capture the nut against the boys."

"Do you want help setting up a field?" I offered, dimly remembering games of capture the flag at camp.

"Well, umm…" Jixy spoke up, "The whole church is the battlefield. We were looking for somewhere to set up our base."

"Boys against girls, eh?" I grinned, suddenly eager for a distraction. "There are more of them than you. Don't you think that's an unfair advantage?"

"We're girls," Janice shrugged. "We're much more cunning than the boys."

"Well, that's true," I granted. "Can I play on your team, too? I'm a girl."

"But you're so big," Jrixibell said. "You wouldn't be able to go after their nut if they hid it in a wall somewhere." The other girls nodded sadly.

"So, I'll be keeper," I put forth, not deterred in the slightest. We all grinned at one another and the girls nodded with mischief in their eyes. The scrape of a spoon against a pan could be heard above a tiny raspy voice. Belle peeked her head up from where she'd been hiding.

"Can I play, too?" She asked, and the girls were all a-flutter with delight.

"You can be prison guard!" Jocelynn exclaimed in excitement. The wingless fairy grinned, showing sharp teeth. At almost twice the height of the others, she was a formidable sight and would play her part well.

We briefly outlined our strategy. I'd set up a circle around the nut when a pixy boy came in to grab it, then Belle would pop out and grab him, putting him in the jail until another of his team mates came to his rescue. The pixy girls would run our offensive team, hunting out the other team's nut and flying it back to our base.

I waited in the kitchen while the pixies went to the sanctuary, where Jenks played referee. The sharp screech of his wing could be heard, like a ref's whistle, and the battle was joined. Jerrimat, the first of the scouts from the boys' team came in and I nearly laughed when, darting around and hunting for where the girls hid their nut, he saw it sitting in the middle of the counter out in the open. He scoffed in consternation, almost ignoring me as I sipped idly away at my coffee from my chair.

"There it is," he said, putting on a bluff for my benefit. "The girls said they left a nut in here for me. I'll just be taking that back to the desk…"

I waited until he was almost on it before I whispered "_Rhombus,"_ and set the small circle directly around the nut with the flow of my chi joining with the thin ring of salt.

"Hey! No fair!" he complained, running smack into the wall of ever-after, unable to pull up in time. Just as we'd planned, Belle jumped out like a trapdoor spider from under the spine of my Latin book I'd left propped over a pot and nabbed him, quickly tying him up in dental floss and dragging him into her 'jail' beneath.

We did this a couple more times before the pixy girls returned with the boys' team's nut. Belle good-naturedly released her prisoners and both teams shook hands, or in my case, had a line of pixy boys bow to me.

We all agreed to set everything back up for another round. The boys seemed confident that now that they knew Belle and I were playing, the element of surprise was lost and they'd have a better chance. The boys were certainly graceful losers. It just went to show that Jenks and Matalina had raised them all well.

The field was reset and I sipped my coffee, waiting for my next victims. Round two was going much the same as the first, with Belle capturing the other team's players as I halted them inches from the nut and within her reach. The remaining pixy boys launched a valiant rescue mission for their captured team members, flying in tight formation and peeling off with their brothers in tow. Belle managed to nab one or two of them, but couldn't keep them all away and those who got away were soon freed from their dental floss ropes to try again.

Somehow, they'd found my stash of sleepy time splat balls and were now adding the munitions to their tactics. I had to drop my circle around the nut to fend off the balls that they pelted me with and one of the pixy boys managed to get inside my larger circle to make a grab for the nut, while I was otherwise distracted. I held my circle, so he couldn't get out, but when I was least expecting it, Bis flew right through my circle and the pixy boy (Jumoke, I think) passed him the nut as he went swooping through.

A wing of pixy girls flew into the kitchen after him, while I sat there with my mouth hanging open. The boys still in Belle's clutches smirked up at me. We'd been outwitted by our own tactics.

Refusing to accept so ignominious a defeat, I jumped up from my chair to give chase. The sound of my pounding footfalls echoed back to me from both sides of the hallway as I broke into a fast sprint. He had a lead on me, but I was confident I could catch up with him since the pixy girls were sure to be harrying him mid-flight.

Out in the open air of the sanctuary, Bis and the pixies were engaged in a furious dogfight in the air. Bis and the boys tossed the nut back and forth between them, trying to keep it away from the girls. I bided my time, lurking below for the right moment to press the attack. The pixies could maintain flight nearly indefinitely, but Bis was a glider. He'd have to land and climb to regain altitude before too long. None of the airborne pixies paid me much mind: I was just a lunker and not much threat to them where I was. I laughed inwardly. That's what they thought.

I couldn't use a circle on Bis since he could pass right through them, but I _could_ make an undrawn circle in the air, with enough concentration. None of them were aware that I could do that, aside from Bis, as they hadn't been there when I'd learned. I doubted he'd remembered to warn them of my ability.

When next they passed Bis the nut, I was ready for it. I threw up a circle in the air to capture the whole lot of the pixies, as they had clustered just right. High-pitched shouts of displeasure came from both teams, as I'd caught all of them, even the girls. I was barely paying any attention to that. I was jumping for Bis, who'd landed on the back of the couch and now clutched our nut.

He made a gasp as he saw me over one of his wing tips, the muscles beneath bunching, readying to launch him in the air again. I was already on him before he could complete the action. The two of us tumbled down onto the couch, our landing throwing up a puff of Ivy's incense from the many days and nights she'd sat there. I fought back the urge to relax into it as I tried to wrestle my gargoyle for possession of the nut. His claws were clutched tight around it and he was already growing in size to try to fight me with more mass. Leylines blazed into my mind while he swelled up. I thought fast-I didn't want to hurt him-so I did the only thing I could think to do. I reached up under his arms to the skin beneath, and started scratching him. His tough skin could take a lot of punishment, so what would normally hurt a person like you or me merely tickled him. He was _very_ ticklish.

He convulsed under my nails, howling with laughter and losing control of his size. He grew and shrank in halting, jerking motions, nearly bucking me off of him with the force of the changes. Finally, his grasp on the nut fell away, and I snatched it up, making a break for it.

I made it maybe five running strides before a heavy weight came crashing into me from behind. I was pinned flat to the floor by two hundred pounds of snarling gargoyle. My concentration broke completely, the pixies trapped in my circle were freed to join their battle in earnest. In the space of a few heartbeats, Bis and I were both set upon by the swirling, screeching mass of them. In less than that, the melee devolved into a tickle fight of epic proportions, and I was on the very bottom of the pile.

Peals of laughter, some of them my own, resounded through the sanctuary, as I struggled to unseat the gargoyle on my back who was giving me the worst of it. He used his tail-four feet of pure, prehensile muscle-to wrap around my leg and keep me in place, while he assaulted both of my sides. I wanted to slump in defeat, but the spasms in my muscles wouldn't let me. How he managed to use his claws without hurting me, I'll never know, but the result of his efforts had me nearly losing control of my bladder. Pixies rolled about on us, tickling each other, adding to the jarring sensations with buzzing wings and their knees and elbows digging about as they fought one another. I dearly hoped I wasn't getting pixed on top of it all.

Suddenly, the gales of pixy laughter went silent and their tiny weights left me in a rush. Bis stopped his assault on me moments later and a pall fell over the room. With tears of laughter in my eyes, I looked in front of me, feeling Bis go utterly still. At my immediate eye level, which was roughly inches above the parquet floor, a pair of black bunny slippers with fangs glared at me. I followed the stems of milk white ankles and calves upward, straining my neck, to the hem of a black bathrobe and, just in front of that, to the point of a katana a foot from my nose.

"Ivy?" I breathed, clutching my heaving sides, trying to get my pulse under control.

"Rachel," her voice, cool and smooth as silk came floating down to me, "Do you have _any_ idea what time it is?"

Bis's weight finally left my back and I crawled up onto my knees so I could peer up at her without breaking my neck. "After noon?" I ventured, trying to look suitably contrite even as the humor of the situation made me want to laugh.

"Barely," she growled.

"Sorry Ms. Tamwood," the pixies chorused, and Jenks flitted down between the point of her sword and me, where I could see him. "Uh, yeah. Sorry Ivy. I told them to be quiet, but they all got carried away and…" he trailed off, his voice stilled by the forbidding look in her black eyes.

"I… uh… sorry we woke you, Ivy," I began and got to my feet, brushing off the front of my own bathrobe. "We got rather caught up in the moment. I made coffee," I offered, skirting her and her gleaming sword to venture toward the kitchen. "I got in early and was exhausted, so I went to bed. I didn't mean to be up so early."

I didn't hear her footfalls behind me, but I knew she was there as I took the brunt of her anger with me, away from the church full of pixies and Bis. "How is the investigation going?" I asked from inside the fridge, completely casual, so she could get her instincts under control. I snagged the orange juice and turned to find her directly behind me, so I offered her the carton. She grabbed it and retreated to her spot behind her computer, grabbing her glass from the dish rack as she went. I didn't see her sword anywhere.

"It's a disaster," she said, finally. "I got in past dawn. No one knows how the hell they got the statue off the fountain. There are no tool marks anywhere and the water pipes leading up through the statue looked to have been welded clean shut where she used to be. They're ruling this one to be Interlander, but they don't want to tell anything to the press. They're all spooked by this one. The few witnesses we've been able to talk to swore that the statue just… walked away. They didn't want to come forward before because they figured that they'd get a one-way ticket to the funny farm if they told anyone in authority what they saw. We've been able to get a few to come forward and every witness corroborates the same story."

"So, they think it might be the result of some spell?"

"Some spell either gone terribly wrong or somebody's idea of a cruel joke, perhaps. The IS has already contacted the Coven, and the Coven has launched their own investigation into the crime. It'll only be a matter of time before they decide to start pointing the finger in your direction, if they can't find the real culprit before the Solstice. If they have to close the circle at the square and the fountain's still in its current state, they'll want somebody to burn for it. Publicly."

"You really think that they'll blame me?" I shuddered at the thought. If this was now considered Coven business, they'd deal with it in their own way and I was all too familiar with how they dealt with such things.

"You're the only demon/witch this side of the lines. As scapegoats go, they could do worse and we both know that when an angry mob gets together over something like this, they're more likely to burn first and ask questions later." I didn't want to believe her, dammit, but after all I'd gone through with the Coven and being shunned for things that weren't my fault, then having them try to kill me before my farce of a trial, I knew what she said made too much sense to be ignored. I squared my shoulders and my jaw and made up my mind to keep them from using me as their whipping girl. Again.

"So then it's up to me to figure out what really happened before they start looking for an easy suspect, rather than the right one." I glowered at nothing in particular, my thoughts spinning with the research I'd need to do and the arms I'd have to twist to find out who did this.

"My thoughts exactly. Jenks has already agreed to back us up on this one. He was supposed to tell you when you got back."

"He was asleep by the time I did," I replied, blushing a little, "and then this afternoon, things got a little…. distracting."

Ivy finally smiled, the first real one I'd seen from her in a while. "You had fun. You needed it, after… everything. Sorry I was such a grump when I woke up."

I had to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. Ivy almost never apologized about anything, unless she thought she'd lose me if she didn't. For her to make such a concession over something so small as getting up on the wrong side of the bed spoke volumes for how serious she thought this situation with the statue was. "It's ok, Ivy," I finally choked out past my surprise. "We all get a little cranky when we haven't had enough sleep."

"Still, I didn't want you to think I… disapproved of you playing with the pixies. Sometimes I think we've forgotten how to play. It's nice to know that you haven't. Maybe next time I'll want to join."

Ivy kept piling on the shockers. I didn't know what to make of her attitude shift. "So how is Glenn?" I asked, finally, suspecting that her relationship with the FIB officer had a lot to do with her current state of mind.

"He's fine," she said, blushing and smiling a little, thus confirming my suspicion.

"That's… great! Really!" I knew I was smiling much harder than I should be for such a tacit admission, but coming from Ivy, that was like a declaration shouted from the rooftops.

"Shut up," she muttered, her light blush becoming darker.

"So," I changed the subject, taking pity on her for once and letting the matter of Glenn slide, "I had planned on going to the mall today to do some shopping. I thought we could go together. While we're there, we can start asking around at the shops to see if anyone's been buying the type of stuff used in such high magic. I've never heard of the type of spell this must have been, so it's bound to include something out of the ordinary to do it."

"Sounds great," she smiled. "I've been meaning to go see what I can do about replacing my working leathers. They're getting pretty beat up."

"Before we go, I thought I'd cook up some breakfast. Are you interested?"

"Yes, please. You know I always enjoy your cooking."

After Ivy and I polished off the fried green tomatoes and toast I made, we gathered a few things for our trip out. Ivy insisted on making a list of things she wanted, as well as an itinerary of which shops we'd go to and in what order. She planned our little impromptu shopping trip like she planned everything else: a carefully-concocted plan of attack complete with strategies and a balanced budget to boot. For once, I was grateful for her tendency toward the anal-retentive. She'd balanced my checkbook for me and I now knew how much of my savings I had left to spend. It wasn't as much as I'd hoped, but no less than what I'd feared.

By the time she was done with her maps and color-coded lists, I had a meager list of my own to replenish my dwindling stock of spelling ingredients. I figured I could save a lot of cash by simply making my own outfits out of my disguise potions, since the ingredients used were simple and inexpensive when factored against the price of a full wardrobe bought from Veronica's closet. I was going to use the opportunity of Ivy's clothes shopping to gather inspiration. She was even going to let me borrow her digital camera for the excursion. She only agreed after I mentioned that we could photograph rare ingredients and items in the magic shops for reference on the cork board we were going to make for our investigation, like the murder boards they had on cop shows on TV. She jumped at the idea, as I knew she would.

Our trip to the mall was a blast. Ivy was a fun shopping partner. The sales assistant in Veronica's closet was the same living vamp who had fitted me with my leather boots. Recognizing Ivy as the Tamwood heir and scion to the late Piscary had him falling all over himself to help her in any way she would desire. He all but offered his neck for her to sample, ha she wished it. Ivy suffered the attention with bored grace. I grinned to myself and went to go play in the racks of clothing I couldn't afford, but wouldn't have to. I stroked and sniffed fabrics to my heart's content, snapping photos of things I wanted to remember better later.

My forays into the spell shops yielded less than I had hoped. If somebody was buying rare, powerful items, they weren't going to the mall to do it. I bought what I needed for spelling, forgoing the cobwebs, since the pixies gathered them for me from the ceilings of the church for free. The witch behind the counter paid close attention to what I'd bought, seeming almost disappointed that the items were all mundane after I had inquired about the more esoteric and expensive items they had in glass cases.

By the time we were headed home with our respective hauls, it was growing dark fast. We carried our purchases in amidst chill winds and flurries of snow. Ivy immediately went to her room to stow her new outfits in the closet and I went into the kitchen to do the same with mine in the pantry. After I was done, I hooked the digital camera up to Ivy's computer and turned on the printer. I found her stash of photo paper, replaced the regular matte stuff with it, and set about printing my photos.

I made preparations for dinner to the song of the printer's ink jets working overtime and pixies shrieking out in the sanctuary. I was still rather tired from the day before, my wrestling match with Bis, and the long walks through throngs of people, so I envied them their seemingly boundless energy. Chopping onions and peppers kept my hands busy while a tube of ground turkey thawed in the sink. Beef was hard to come by after the Turn. The resources needed to raise it were almost too much drain on the smaller population. Poultry was an easier and far cheaper alternative, in comparison. I'd grown accustomed to it, barely even thinking about it any more. Nearly all the fast food places had also made the switch to turkey, goat, or venison, although it was all still called hamburger. Protein was protein, in the end. I dumped the onions into a skillet and set the heat low, smelling the aroma turn from eye-watering to mouth-watering before too long. As the onions simmered, I peeled back the packaging from the meat and set the raw, still frozen-on-the-inside cylinder on a plate in the microwave to continue defrosting.

Ivy entered the kitchen and immediately went for the orange juice, raising an eyebrow at the pages that were printing out. "I thought you were going to photograph the items that would be needed for a spell to bring the statue to life," she chided. "What's with all the fashion?"

"Nobody bought anything conspicuous at the mall stores. I haven't got a clue what kind of things I'm looking for. I need more research to figure out what type of spell could do this. Those are for my own… personal use."

"You're going to twist a curse, aren't you." She said it flatly, no question in her tone.

"As a matter of fact, yes," I grit back, refusing to feel ashamed for who and what I was. "It's no big deal. I have three bases prepped and I needed the inspiration."

"Well, I hope you know what you're doing," she said flatly.

"I do. I've already done it before. Like I said, it's no big deal."

"Whatever, Rachel. Just be careful, ok?" Concern for me softened her tone and I sighed, feeling my ire deflate. I understood that my cavalier attitude toward curses was something relatively new. I had once feared doing any of them for the smut that they caused. I couldn't blame her for being leery at my change of mind. The microwave beeped, saving me from having to respond right away. I took out the plate with a potholder and jammed a fork into the lump of meat. Satisfied that the tiny bit of frozen stuff at the center would cook soon enough once I got it into the pan, I tossed it in with the onions and placed the plate in the sink. I adjusted my flame to the second-to-highest setting under the skillet, hearing the pop and sizzle of meat and onions over my own spinning thoughts.

"It's demon magic," I conceded, sheering off chunks with the edge of my spatula and scrambling it all about. "It's also harmless. All it does is change my appearance to one of my own choosing. It's one of the most basic curses in a demon's lexicon. It can't be used offensively. I'm pretty sure it could barely be considered a defensive spell. You'd have to envision armor or something for that to work out," I pondered aloud, lost a little in thought. "In any case, it's tons cheaper than buying the actual clothing I want to wear. I haven't been using the curse to do anything more than that. I could use it to look like anything I wanted, but I'm using it as a way to keep up with certain changes that I have to in order to fit in over there." I didn't bother saying 'in the everafter'. I was pretty sure she knew what I was talking about.

"So that green dress you showed up in yesterday? And the purple blouse combo you shifted into after? Those were both part of this spell?"

"Yes," I confirmed, turning back to drop the green onions into the pan. "See? Harmless."

"Is that the spell Al used to shift into me when he bit you?" Her question floored me. I dropped the spatula, hearing it clatter woodenly on the stove.

"Maybe," I eventually answered, my thoughts in a whirl. I took up the spatula once more, needing something to keep my hands busy so I wouldn't cover my face in dismay. "Maybe not. I haven't tried using it to take on the abilities of another Interlander, and Al hasn't told me if it can do that." I flipped and turned the meat with deft, swift movements, keeping it browning evenly. Ivy said nothing and left me to my private thoughts.

I finished cooking the meat to my satisfaction and opened up a can of sloppy joe sauce to pour over it, adjusting the flame to simmer it all once again. Without a word of direction from me, Ivy went to go get the buns from the pantry, the action almost routine. The weight of our earlier conversation hang heavily over the meal. Jenks and Bis kept up a lively bit of prattle, sensing the tension and seeking to fill the silence. I barely took in any of what was said.

By the time everyone had eaten their fill, I was ready to burst with wanting to talk to Al about everything this curse he'd had me stirring could do. I'd asked him to teach me to be the demon I needed to be, holding nothing back. It would do me no good to be afraid to ask the questions that would help me on my way. Ivy saw the determined look in my eye and shot me a questioning glance over her empty plate. "I'm going to need to talk to my teacher," I answered the unasked. She nodded, although looked unhappy about it. She could understand my need to know the answers to the issue she'd brought up. "In case he takes it as an invitation, you should all get onto hallowed ground and stay there until I come tell you it's ok."

"You're serious? It's the weekend, Rache. Cut yourself a little slack," Jenks said with false joviality, to hide his unease with the entire concept.

"I also need to ask him about what could have gotten that statue to walk around on its own and why someone would do such a thing. I don't have a lot of time to solve the case before the solstice and I haven't met anyone who knows more about magic and its uses than he does, aside from Newt and she hasn't exactly been dealing with the practitioners on this side of the lines for a while."

"Between the two of them." Ivy put in, "I have to admit that Al is the lesser of the two evils. At least _he _never profaned our church."

"Too right," I said. "Plus, Newt's rather insane."

"Just do what you have to do, Rachel," Jenks said, sounding tired. "I'll make sure the kids stay where it's safe."

"I'm staying with you," Bis declared with finality, leaving no room for argument. He sat heavier, like the stone he was, and wrapped his tail around his legs.

"Sure, Bis. You've been with me on the other side before and he's never done anything to hurt you. You're too valuable, and so am I. The others, he might use for leverage, but I doubt it. Better safe than sorry, though."

Jenks immediately flew off to herd his kids. Ivy glowered about being kicked out of her own kitchen and very deliberately went to the fridge for another glass of juice, taking her time before sauntering slowly back to hallowed ground. I shook my head in exasperation at her antics, but put it from my mind as I reached for my calling circle. The blare of the stereo came clear as a bell from our living room, punctuating Ivy's displeasure for all to hear.

I sighed, shook my head, then carefully placed my fingers in their places on the surface of my scrying mirror's calling glyph. "Rachel calling Al," I intoned for Bis's benefit.

I waited for a full thirty seconds before getting a little ticked off.

"Come in, Al…" I muttered, not liking to be kept waiting. It seemed like ages since I'd begun calling him, although I knew more than most how hard it could sometimes be to get to a glyph when somebody was calling. Unlike Minias, I had the good manners not to just show up and demand an answer. Also unlike Minias, I had good reason not to pop in unannounced. I so did not want to catch Al at a bad time, doing something… private.

I growled under my breath and slid my calling glyph gently down onto the tabletop. It wasn't so important that it had to be right that very second, so I found something else to do while I waited for him to get back to me. I wondered idly if I could come up with some sort of demonic answering machine for times like these. I did the dishes to keep busy while I gave Al some time to get whatever he was into over with. When that was done, I checked the clock and sat in front of my glyph once more.

I made another call to Al, glad to feel my consciousness expand to include his own surface thoughts and feelings as he finally answered me. The place where he was felt humid and warm, and his mental drawl made me want to roll my eyes.

_Itchy Witch, _he thought with a genuine feeling of delight to be hearing from me. _It's the weekend, love. What could possibly have prompted you to interrupt my bath? Not that I'm complaining, mind, _ he smirked and I could feel through the connection that he was slightly aroused. I stifled a shiver at the alien sensation. It was shockingly intimate, to feel him in this way. _I do so love to think about you when I'm in the altogether._

_Knock it off, Al, _I chided, allowing my discomfort to take over the connection for a moment. _I need your opinion on something, and a bit of your expertise. _

_ Ah, so it's business, then, and not pleasure. Pity. Very well. I hope you don't mind if I get dressed while we talk._

I didn't answer him, so he took it as assent. The tingle of everafter over his skin gave me psychosomatic chills in response. I began to outline the problem as soon as I sensed he was ready. _I wouldn't have bothered you if it weren't important, Al. Somebody's magicked the Spirit of Cincinnati to get up and walk off the fountain. I need to know what kind of spell can animate an object like that. All I can think of is a modified golem spell, and that would require a place to insert it into the construct._

_ I see, _he replied. Professional curiosity warred with trepidation in his emotional state of mind. _There are several spells that could do such a thing, as well as quite a few curses. You're not giving me a whole lot to work with, here._

_ I know, I know. I haven't even been to the scene of the 'crime', yet. I want to solve the mystery before the Solstice so that the Coven can't use me as a scapegoat on this one._

_ A great deal of likelihood, there, my student. It's a sorry fact that demons end up bearing the brunt of society's ill will. Are you asking for a consultation on this, or am I to be more of a sounding board?_

_ I've got nothing, Al. I'll need a bit more than just a brainstorming exercise on this. I'm on a tight schedule as it is._

_ Oh goodie. So that means I get a trip to your side of the lines. _He seemed less than thrilled at the prospect. _Just what I wanted to be doing with my Saturday night._

_ I'll cover the expense and I'll buy you a latte. Will that be better?_

He actually did perk up at the offer. _Very well, then. Are you ready for me to come through?_

I was. As soon as I thought it, he was standing in my kitchen.

a/n

Sorry it took so long. Life has gotten rather crazy as of late.

I've ordered the new novel and it's scheduled to ship to me on the 21st. I can't wait!

Happy Valentine's day, everybody. I have to work, so no romantic candlelit dinner for me. I hope your day is better than mine!

More RAl in the next chapter and if all goes well, the answer to a mystery


	11. The Ice is Thinning

Al sniffed the air, probably smelling the dinner I'd prepared about an hour before I'd called him. At his hopeful look, I sighed and went to the fridge to fish out the leftovers. I put the casserole dish I'd stored them in into the microwave and fetched the buns back from the pantry. I'd called him over on his Saturday. The least I could do was feed him, I figured.

I waited until he'd polished off the rest of the leftovers before finally instigating the conversation that I had originally meant to have with him. "That spell. The disguise/appearance spell you used to become… Pierce. Is it the same as the one I've been stirring for my costume changes?"

He leaned back in his chair (my chair) and thought a moment while I took his plate to the sink. "Essentially, yes. There is another ingredient and another step to preparing the base in order to become another person."

"Does that also grant you their abilities?" I asked in an off-hand manner, hoping to gather more information than I would if he thought it really mattered that much to me.

"If that is my wish when I invoke the spell, yes."

"So when you morphed into Ivy that first time, when you gave me my scar. You were using that curse," I hypothesized aloud merely for the benefit of keeping him talking.

"So I was," he grinned, as if pleased that I made the connection. I made a noncommittal hum as I washed the rest of the dishes. "It's quite the ingenious concoction. I do believe that it was Dali who originally came up with it, back before our banishment. The type of ability, and the creature who has it determines the extra ingredient needed to affect the change."

"What would you need to become a were?" I wondered.

"A bit of the animal the were would shift into. Wolf hair for a wolf and so forth. That extra ingredient would allow you to use the other form to affect a shift." I remembered the curse I'd used to become a wolf. "The rest is just a standard disguise. You picture in your mind what you would look like when you invoke the disguise. It merely takes imagination and a good bit of concentration."

"So, what of a vampire?"

"Oh, that's easier than a were. We created them out of our own DNA, some sidhe, and a particular strain of the humans who were running about at the time. They were, in the beginning, just foot soldiers in the war. I was quite young when they made that particular breakthrough. Since we have part of what comprises a vampire in us to begin with, our blood is the the extra ingredient. Although it is minimal at best to the function of the curse, I tend to use a mosquito or some other blood sucker as a catalyst to twist it."

"And I suppose that a transformation into a witch needs nothing?"

"Rachel, I'd be crippling myself if I tried to take on the abilities of an every day witch. I just use the appearance and keep my own abilities, which go far beyond what a garden variety witch can do."

"And this potion, it would work on anyone, not just a demon, if a demon invoked it first?"

"As with all our curses, this is also true. Some need a bit of finesse and tailoring to the individual for whom it was meant, as in the case of the size-changing spell I believe Ceri made for your pixy friend."

Possibilities seemed to stretch outward in a million different directions at once. Thoughts about how the potion might be used to keep Ivy from losing her soul had my head spinning. If it was truly as versatile as he said, I could use it as a base for experimentation on the issue of Ivy's eventual demise. "Could it be used to make a person permanently another thing at the point of death?"

"Ah, you're wondering if the solution to Ivy's eventual loss of soul could be that simple," he surmised, looking at me with a bit of a half-smile. His smile fell. "No. At the point of death, she would revert to herself, the magic tied to her life force going with it. She would be an undead, just as before."

"Ah well," I murmured, smiling sadly. "It was worth a shot."

"You'd be much better off pursuing the avenue of trapping her soul in a bottle at the moment of death and somehow putting it back in after she had made the transition."

"I was afraid of that."

"Much as I hate to say, you might want to talk to that elf of yours about it. I understand he did much the same thing to you, while he kept your body alive with machines."

"You might be right about that."

"In any case, I can tell you for a fact that the curse wouldn't work on inanimate objects. It requires a soul and a life force to draw power and sustain the change. Whatever they used to make your statue walk away on its own, it wasn't this."

"We just don't know enough about it to begin narrowing things down. I want to go to fountain square to see if you or I can pick up on anything the others might have missed."

"Excellent. I'll get my hat. Bring your gargoyle, too."

"Er, just a minute. I want to make something to change into." I grabbed one of the uninvoked phials from the back of the sink and snatched up a glossy photo of the fur coat I wanted to try out. It was long and warm, soft to the touch, and black as night. The mannequin also had an outfit beneath: a pair of black leather pants and a blood red cable knit turtleneck sweater. I mentally added the boots I'd snapped a photograph of to the set and fixed the image in my mind. When I had it, I pricked my finger and massaged three drops into the potion. I gave it a few swift shakes and drank it down when I was sure it was ready. It was warm as I had hoped. A few more minutes in the church and I'd be sweating bullets.

Al raised an approving eyebrow at my outfit. "You're getting faster. That's good."

"I look like Vamp bait," I grumbled. "But at least I'll be warm."

Al affected a change, as well. He stood before me looking like no one I'd ever met. Sandy brown hair, brown eyes, classically handsome features, grey trousers, black turtleneck, and a charcoal wool london fog trench coat completed the look of a nondescript well-to-do businessman after hours.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" I demanded without heat. It was a far sight better than what he'd arrived in.

"I'm nobody. That way no one will remember me. All anyone will see is you, in that getup."

I had to admit to myself that it made a hell of a lot of sense, although I said nothing aloud. Al's head was plenty inflated as far as I was concerned, so I merely walked to the back door, pausing for Bis to hop up on my shoulder. "Let's go."

We made the drive in good time. Conversation revolved around the job at hand. Mostly, I asked him questions about creative uses for spells I already knew and curses of which I'd only read about. In typical Al fashion, he answered succinctly without going into a lot of detail. It didn't seem like he was trying to keep things from me, more that this was the way he thought about things and that he wasn't used to explaining things to a novice when the barest minimum usually snagged him familiars. I could see that it was a hurdle we'd have to pass in time.

"Did you get me that book, yet?"

"Working on it."

"Hmph."

"There's a space. You missed it."

"Handicap parking only."

"I could make you a placard. It wouldn't take but a moment."

"And what if an actual handicap person needed the space? I'll park in the garage."

"Suit yourself."

I took the ticket the machine printed out and waited for the arm to complete its upward swing to admit me into the parking lot beneath the square. I navigated the car through the meandering path between parked cars until I found an open space one level down near the elevators. I waited while Bis clambered from the backseat to regain my shoulder before stepping out of the car.

We rode the elevators up to the surface without speaking. We were the only ones going up, but the claustrophobic atmosphere stifled any further conversation. When the doors slid open, I breathed a sigh of relief. My history with elevators was weighing heavy on my mind. If Al knew of my discomfort, he said nothing.

The part of the square immediately around the fountain was still cordoned off with yellow tape. News crews and nosy people with cameras were still milling about, getting snapshots and video of the desecrated landmark. Officers of the IS stood around in their cold weather uniforms holding steaming styrofoam cups of coffee, still gathering evidence and taking statements. It looked like they might also be there as guards to prevent further antics with the fountain, but I found it rather ridiculous; like shutting the barn door after the horses had fled.

I took in the rest of the scene. The seasonal ice skating rink off to the far side of the square was doing a good bit of business despite, or perhaps because of, the recent media attention to the area. Everybody wanted their five minutes of fame, and it looked as though reporters were interviewing the people who wandered up to get their thoughts and feelings about what had happened to the fountain.

It wasn't long before one of the reporters spotted me and I had a camera swung into my face, the light for night shooting blinding me for a moment. Al peeled away, pretending that we hadn't arrived together, and I was glad for it. I'd brought him out here mostly so that he could get a feel for the traces of energy and what kind of power had been pulled through the line there recently. I didn't mind playing decoy while he did the actual investigating. I never did manage to take that class on crime scene etiquette, and I hadn't been approached by either the FIB or the IS to consult on this one. In short, as far as they were concerned, I was just another lookie-loo hanging about while the real police work happened.

"Rachel!" The were reporter, Marlene, exclaimed to get my attention, as if the bright light on the camera hadn't already done that. "Rachel Morgan! Do you have any information about what happened to the fountain?"

"Ah, no, other than what I saw on the news. I just got here."

"Your partner is working with the IS as a consultant. Is that correct?"

"Ivy Tamwood of Vampiric Charms, my partner, has been working with the IS on this investigation," I said carefully. I didn't want to say anything that they could later edit to say something completely at odds with what I meant.

"Is it true that the Spirit of Cincinnati just up and walked away?" Marlene leaned forward, as if to be taken into my confidence. Her demeanor was light and inquisitive, but still I was wary of her intentions.

"Some eyewitness reports say so," I replied noncommittally.

"Does that mean that there was magical involvement in the crime?" Marlene tried another tack. I wasn't sure what she was getting at.

"The Coven has been called in to determine that," I supplied, figuring that it was public knowledge.

"Are you here as a representative to the coven or as an independent consultant?" Ah, so she wanted to know whether or not they were going to tap me as a resource and if I had insider information.

"Nope. I just came for the ice skating." I smiled and gestured to the rink.

"Is there anything else you can tell Channel 9's viewers about what kind of spell might have been used to make the statue get up and walk away like that?" Figuring I wasn't really on the case, she was hopeful that I might be able to shed some light on it any way. My reputation preceded me in this, and I couldn't see the harm in engaging in some speculation. That's all I had at this point, anyway.

"Well, I've thought about it and I can't really say how they did it. The statue walking off could have been an illusion to cover the theft, or they might have actually animated it somehow. As I've not been asked to help with the investigation, I haven't gotten up close to the fountain. I hope they call me when they find out who did this, so I can take them down."

"Thanks for your time, Rachel," Marlene smiled. I wondered if it was to cover the fact that she was going to use my statement to stir up speculation in the press, or if the two options I'd given were going to go on the viewer phone-in survey. I hoped for the latter.

"Any time," I smiled, blowing bunny-eared kisses to the camera as I walked off toward the rink.

I looked around for Al, seeing that he had managed to get as close as he could to the area cordoned off around the fountain. The IS agents were keeping people well back. I tried to catch his eye, but he was staring up at the fountain with his second sight. Other witches in the crowd were doing the same, so he didn't look out of place. Those witches had given Al a wide berth, though, seeing a thousand years of layered smut on his aura through that sight. I gave up trying to get his attention and continued on toward the little shack where they rented out skates to those who didn't have their own. There wasn't a charge to use the rink, but most people didn't own their own skates so the rink owners made money through the skate rentals.

Before I could get there, Dominic Thereu, the new head of the IS runner's division in Cincinnati, swooped in to block my progress. Although we hadn't had much history together, he was an up-and-coming runner at the same time that I was pulling familiars out of trees on the slow track to retirement. Dennon and he had been buddies, although Dominic was a living vamp where Dennon was merely a hopeful human scion to Kisten's murderer. The Thereu family was as old as the Tamwoods, not as connected, but still rather impressive in certain circles. He'd been a part of Piscary's camarilla, and was joined the rest when Rynn Cormel came to take Piscary's place, but he had been loyal to Piscary and Dennon, so rather hated me. He had the sleek bearing of the predator he was, spiky black hair in a crew cut, was about six-five and was built like a brick shit house. I liked to call him 'Dennon, mark two.' "Morgan. Returning to the scene of the crime?"

"You can't be seriously trying to pin this one on me," I scoffed, craning my neck to peer up at him.

"This has your fingerprints all over it," he replied. "Strange magical crap always seems to point back to you. If there's demon involvement, it's most certainly your fault."

"Go Turn yourself, Thereu. Unless you have actual fingerprints linking me to this, or some other hard evidence, I'll not be turned into a scapegoat for your public relations nightmare."

"I'm watching you," he warned, his eyes narrowing. "I've advised the Coven to do the same, but they said they're already keeping tabs on you."

"Of course they are," I muttered. "So they know that I was at Trent's or home when this went down. When exactly did this happen?"

"Eyewitness reports say that it happened at six p.m. exactly. Can you verify your whereabouts at that time?"

"Of course I can. I woke up at Trent Kalamack's around 4:30. I had dinner with the family. That took a little over an hour, and between 6:15 and 6:45, I was in the car with one of Trent's drivers on my way home. After that, I was inside for about an hour or so before I went out back to my graveyard with Bis, here and went to the everafter. I was there until midnight. Then I slept for a full twelve hours. Does that satisfy your curiosity?"

"During any of these times, were you ever alone?"

"Nope. I woke up with Ceri at my bedside and was with somebody every waking moment since then, other then when I went to go pee, but there was somebody outside, guarding the door all the time," I assured him with a mocking tone. "Now quit harassing me and let me go skate."

"All right, Morgan. We'll be sure to check out your alibi. I don't have to tell you to stay where we can reach you, do I? I'm sure you know the drill."

"Fine, Dominic. Now, can I go skate?"

"You're free to go. For now."

I felt his eyes boring into my back the whole time I was paying for my skates. He finally quit staring at me as I sat down to lace them on. Bis scrambled off my shoulder and went to find a nice, high perch to watch the spectacle below. I made awkward progress over the rubber mats they put down between the benches and the ramp leading up to the ice, but once I gained it, I was happily skating around in a circle just like everybody else.

The grooves worn into the ice from the passage of multiple blades were a little tough to navigate at first, and falling children became deadly obstacles a time or two, but it felt great to be sliding about in neat lines as I felt the wind rushing by my face. I hadn't been skating in ages… not since Halloween the year before. What started as a ruse to get Al past the scrutiny of reporters was becoming an unexpected bit of fun. I had almost forgotten my purpose for coming here in the first place, until a figure in a charcoal grey wool coat came sliding up beside me.

I turned my head and smiled with the sheer joy of skating to my erstwhile companion. He returned the smile with a little bit of surprise, and I laughed aloud at his expression. "I didn't know you could ice skate," I said, turning to go in reverse, hoping that he'd warn me if I was going to run into somebody.

"Of course. There were times during the turn of the last century that it was the only thing to do in winter. I had to learn to skate in order to ingratiate myself into certain circles of influence."

"Hmm," I said, not buying his cool act. "And of course you never had fun doing it."

"I didn't say that," he grinned in response. "I merely meant…"

"Oh, forget about that for now. I'm here, you're here, the ice is here. Let's just skate!" I turned and put on a burst of speed, flitting through the slower skaters and enjoying the freedom of it. I wasn't surprised when he caught up with me, but I was pleased by it for some reason.

Once I'd had enough and my leg muscles and ankles were beginning to protest, I made my way to the exit, slowing so that I wouldn't go flying on my face when I ran out of ice and made the jump to the rubber-covered boards. The world around me halted with a jolt. My legs felt shaky and my progress once again awkward, after the smooth gliding I'd been doing for so long.

I returned the skates to the guy behind the rentals counter with a sigh of regret, but I was getting pretty chilled and could use a good cup of coffee to warm me up. Cocoa would do, but I preferred them together. A mocha sounded heavenly right then. Bis came gliding down from his perch on the concrete observation balcony, causing people to gasp at his sudden arrival. His ears and tail drooped a little at the attention: the gargoyle equivalent of an embarrassed blush. I smiled and put out my arm for him to clamber up from the railing beside me and turned to see Al returning his own skates to the rental guy, as well.

Together, we returned to the parking garage and I navigated us back to the exit, paying the exorbitant parking fee without a qualm. The gate raised, and I drove out into the night, headed toward Clifton. Al was strangely quiet as I drove through the heart of downtown Cincinnati, lost in his own thoughts once again.

"So, what did you find?" I finally broke the silence, remembering the reason that we'd gone to the square in the first place.

"There's been so much activity there that it was a little difficult to ferret out the new from the old. The Coven has been busy with their detection spells and amulets and such, but I did sense something… strange. It had an odd flavor. I'm not sure at all what it means."

"Well, what did it feel like?"

"It's hard to explain. It's not purely demonic in origin, I can tell you that much. It doesn't have a witchy flavor, either. The closest thing I could compare it to would be wild magic, and I haven't dealt with that in a very long time."

"Wild magic, like the elves use?"

"A bit like that. A little different. It's hard to say."

"Maybe I really _do_ need to speak to Trent," I murmured, hoping like hell that he had nothing to do with it. It wasn't his style, but stranger things had happened. Perhaps it was another elf clan trying to muscle in on his territory.

"It felt like…" he continued, working it out as he spoke, "like wild magic and fey magics, and even a little bit of demonic energy thrown in for spice. Whoever did this, they're playing with forces the likes of which haven't been seen in a _very long_ _time._"

"Should we be worried?" I asked aloud, forgetting for the moment who I was sitting next to.

"Not yet. We shall see what comes up in the next few days. Either they did this as a test, and will be doing something on a larger scale, or they wanted the statue for something."

"Great. The new head of IS's runners division grilled me for an alibi," I mentioned.

"I saw. It's a good thing you have one."

"The best money can't buy," I concluded. "For once, I'm glad I was summoned to Trent's place and that I had to beg a ride home. It covered my ass like nothing else could. No one is going to accuse Trent of lying on my behalf, not after I tagged him at his wedding."

"That was a lovely spectacle," Al remarked with a fond smile of remembrance. His face fell abruptly as the memory continued. "Although, what came after wasn't quite as fun."

"Your fight with Piscary?"

"And my banishment. By you."

"You win some, you lose some. It all worked out in the end, don't you think?"

"Jury's still out on that, love."

"But I bet a latte would sway it just a bit?"

"You read my mind."

The Highland was hopping when we arrived. Every table was full and we had to sit at the bar. For once, Al wasn't trying to rush me out, so when I draped my coat over the back of the swiveling stool, I had some time to explore while we waited for our orders to be made. Bis was in seventh heaven. There were perches everywhere and tons of things to look at. The forties-something guy who had served us before wasn't there. Instead, there was a twenties-something human with thick glasses, curly strawberry blonde hair, and a short, reddish-blond beard running around behind the bar. He had a goofy, geeky kind of charm and a fast-paced, efficient mien about him that I could appreciate in a crowd like this one. It seemed impossible that one guy could do everything that he was: taking orders, making them, delivering them to the tables, bussing, washing dishes, and ringing customers out without anybody having to wait too long. I would have been hiding, crying on the floor behind the bar if I had to deal with all that. Conversation was thick with philosophical debates interspersed with meaningless chitchat and silly gossip. No one seemed to notice or care who I was. Either everybody was being tactful or they were wrapped up in their own lives to the point that they never noticed I was among them. I cherished the feeling of anonymity that afforded.

I trusted Al to order my usual as I went off to the bathroom. I kept an eye on the status of our orders at the bar while I perused the bookshelves and watched the fish swimming around in the aquariums. A clatter from one of the shelf by the grinder had everyone looking up to see my embarrassed gargoyle righting a teapot he'd nearly knocked off. Bis glided down to join me by the painted green piano to look in on the single goldfish swimming in the tank on the top, where he could do no more damage. Somebody had taped a little strip of paper up on the glass, proclaiming the fish to be named, simply, 'Lucky'. As Bis climbed up to my shoulder and I lent a helping hand, I saw the lines of Cincinnati in a flash, noting that there was a ley line running from the big one under the university out back of the coffeehouse. Intrigued, I looked over my shoulder to see Al sitting at the bar, sans drinks. I went for my coat to go outside and investigate further.

Al raised a questioning eyebrow and I gestured to the door leading outside to the deck. "I want to go look out there. Will you be okay waiting here for our drinks?"

"Sure," he replied with a shrug.

"Thanks." As I made my way through the narrow walkway between the piano and the water dispenser, I heard the geeky barista ask him in a low voice, "Your date. Is that really Rachel Morgan?"

I didn't hear what Al said in response, and wasn't sure I cared to. I continued on as if I hadn't heard any of it and gained the outside with a minimum of fuss.

Out on the deck, a couple of living vamps sat smoking cigarettes by an iron fireplace that looked to have been transplanted from somebody's log-cabin-living-room onto the end of the wood deck. A cylindrical, metal chimney jutted out the top, looking comical in that it seemed like it didn't belong. The vamps paused in their conversation to glance back at me. I avoided their scrutiny by taking the flight of concrete steps to my right downward to the ground.

Before me was a gate that led to the sidewalk outside. To my left, there was a brick pathway leading beside the columns holding up the deck, past the trunk of a tree, and out to a little hidden patio with trees growing between the bricks and little cafe' tables and chairs set beneath the canopy the trees made. From the branches hung a two strings of spherical lights, and the trees sported white solstice tree lights spiraling up the trunks. There was a little fire pit off to the side. It looked like it hadn't seen a fire in months. Intrigued, I wandered into the space itself, feeling like I'd stepped into somebody's private little garden.

The patchy snow on the ground, tables, and chairs could not detract from the beauty of the place. As I got closer, I could see that in the center of the space between the trees, etched in the bricks that paved the ground, was a circle about five feet across. The odd table out, the circular one with the yellow earth tone mosaic tiled surface, sat off-center in the circle, with a few of the wire-framed chairs dispersed haphazardly around it. The circle didn't look like it got much use, but it was nice to know it was there. The Highland was obviously a witch-friendly place.

I started to shiver. Bis noted I was getting cold and left my shoulder to nestle up against my neck. I smiled at the gesture, as well as how it let me see the little line I had sensed before from within the building. The circle rested right over the line, as did the fire pit. It boded for powerful magic being worked in the little courtyard. I felt rather than knew that the witches that used the circle followed the older ways, from back before the Turn. The circle's small size and the courtyard's secluded feel would have been perfect for clandestine meetings at the festivals and full moons.

Standing so close to the line, it was nothing to open myself to it, letting the warm wash of energy flow through me. Bis began humming along with the line, and I heard a far-off chime as we became fully attuned, together. My heart raced, then settled, as I became one with the line and a sense of inner peace filled me.

Standing there, communing, I was able to reach out my thoughts to touch Al's mind, to sense him. He was heading my way from the stairs, with my mocha. I held the line until he was nearly upon me. I let go and turned, smiling, carrying that sense of inner peace with me. Al faltered as our eyes met. I reached out and took my coffee, saying nothing, holding onto my mysterious smile.

"You found the line," he said with certainty.

"And the circle, and the fire pit," I agreed. "It looks like it's been out of use for a while."

"Shall we rectify that?" he suggested.

"Yes. I like it here. It's peaceful."

Al went to get the firewood from the stack beneath the deck. He built a modest little fire and lit it from his thoughts using the line. We pulled the table from the circle closer to the fire and selected two of the chairs. The two of us sat with the table between us, enjoying the sound of the crackling fire as the rest of the logs lit from the kindling. Time ceased to exist for a while. We sat in silence, drinking our coffees and relishing the solitude. A passing ambulance broke the peace, but was gone quickly and the quiet returned. Bis sat in my lap, lazily allowing me to settle a hand on his warmth. The lines were all there in my thoughts through my direct contact with him, but I refrained from communing with them fully. I wanted to be in my own skin for a little while.

The fire burned low and my coffee was gone. I gave Bis a light tap to warn him that I was going to get up so I wouldn't drop him. He clambered back up to my shoulder and I stood. Al stared into the fire, seeming not to be paying any attention to me, so I quietly retraced my steps to go back inside. I noticed that the smoking vamps had gone.

The rush we'd come in during had ended. Some tables still sported customers, either in groups or working on laptops by themselves, but the mad crush of bodies was gone. The music playing through the speakers above the bar reflected the mood, soft jazz over low voices so different from the clamor of our entrance it seemed I'd come into a different coffee house instead of the one I'd left. I made my way to the bar, meeting the barista's gaze boldly, daring him to comment on my identity while I was there to hear it.

He didn't. "Two more of the same?" he asked, drying dishwater from his hands on one of the hanging towels.

"Yes, please. Oh, and three shots of Irish whiskey, in rocks glasses, straight up." I put Al's and my empty mugs on the bar, which the barista quickly took away and dropped into the suds in the sink.

"You got it," he replied, grabbing two more clean mugs and making our coffees.

He put the coffees and the shots on an empty tray on the bar and I smiled my thanks at his forethought. I could handle carrying three glasses at once, but more than that would surely end up needing a mop and bucket to clean up.

I carried the tray carefully back down to the patio, where Al still sat lost in his own thoughts. I put the tray on the table and held out one of the shots, waving it beneath his nose.

He seemed to come back to awareness with a jolt. "Jameson?" he asked, craning his neck back to see the glass I held before him. His hand reached up and took it, cradling it with something like reverence.

"Yup," I replied, and took up my own. Bis grabbed the one that was left, red eyes glowing up at me with gratitude, almost disbelieving his luck. "To Saturday," I toasted, and was echoed by my companions. The clink of glasses lent a bit of class to our outdoor sanctuary. I brought the glass to my lips, knocked it back, and felt the lovely burn go all the way down to my belly. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the other two do the same.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Bis succumbed to the coughs. "Smooth," he rasped out when the fit was done. Al and I both burst out laughing at the same time.

"I do believe you just popped his alcohol cherry," Al remarked, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Ah, well. He's over fifty. It's about time somebody did!" I exclaimed, letting the lethargy take me down into my chair. I wasn't really a drinker, either. One shot was about my limit.

"I think I need a chaser," Bis wheezed, and I handed him my coffee. He took a dainty sip and tried to hand it back to me, not wanting to take more than he should. I held up a hand to ward it off.

"Take what you need," I admonished, and he took a larger swig. This time, when he held it out to me, I received it without further protest.

"I need water," he admitted. "But that was really good. Thanks."

"Well, there's water upstairs in the dispenser."

"I remember. I'll be back." With that, he was gone, leaving me and Al alone.


	12. Brave New World

The silence grew, becoming awkward. I took nervous sips of my coffee, praying for Bis to return soon. Al was holding onto something, nearly bursting with some thought or truth, afraid of how I'd take it. The tension in his posture said as much without me having to ask.

"I had fun tonight," he finally spoke, startling me with the abrupt nature of it after so much silence.

"That's it?" I laughed. "That's your dire revelation?" The alcohol was making me giddy.

I stifled my laughter at the seriousness of his expression. "Rob, the barista, he called you my date. Are you? Is this a date?" He turned to me, his eyes reaching out for understanding. He looked like nothing so much as a lost teenager. That mix of confused hope and wariness was something I had never expected from him. It gave me pause.

"I don't know," I said at length. "It didn't start out that way. I didn't plan it to be." Sometimes, I felt as if there were two different Als. The big, scary demon Al, the one I'd first met, and the earnest, somewhat sweet Al, the one I was catching glimpses of. Those glimpses were becoming more frequent, as of late. I couldn't tell which was the real one, or if they were two facets of the same person. The vulnerability I thought I saw in him seemed too genuine to be an act. "It certainly seems that way." The silence returned. Rather than hurt by my vague answer, he seemed thoughtful. Unable to stand it any longer, I asked, "Do you want it to be?"

"I suppose the real question is, do you?"

"Either way, it was a good time. I don't really want to overanalyze it."

"That's not an answer."

"Well, you didn't really give me one, either, so there we are," I pointed out with a little bit of snap to my tone.

Silence descended once more. I got up to grab another log to toss on the fire, wondering what in the world was keeping Bis. Apparently, Al found fault with how I placed the log, as he nudged it a little with his foot, sending up sparks. I stood by the fire, letting the heat of it waft up my body to my face. Al went to retrieve another log, unsatisfied with the amount that was already on it. When he finished stacking them on in some complex pattern I didn't care to decipher, he stood as well. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets, stating into the fire as if it held the answers to the universal questions in the embers.

"I do," he finally said. "I haven't been on many… dates. The only female demon for the last few centuries has been insane. Seducing mortal women was a means to an end. This is better, I think." He quirked a smile at me, his eyes darting up from watching the fire to gauge my expression.

"You mean, now that you see me as an equal," I reasoned skeptically. He sighed and pulled a hand out of his pocket, rubbing at his neck. The nervous gesture was another glimpse of _other_ Al. Honestly, I couldn't tell if it was an act.

He turned away from the fire to face me fully, letting his hand drop and imploring me to see the gravity of the truth he was about to bestow, how much faith it took for him to say. "Sometimes, I see you as a child, my student. You're so young and inexperienced in your power that it looks that way. Other times, I feel as though you are superior to us all, usually after I've been inside your soul, seeing myself through your eyes. It humbles me. When we kiss, I can see you as no other than a desirable female, and all I want to do is be a desirable male… and… do other things." I could gather what those other things were. The thought provoked images of sweaty bodies straining with each other in the dark. I blushed. "I worried that you would never see me as anything more than the monster you despise, at worst, and a sometimes useful source of information, at best."

"You don't worry about that any more?"

"No. I don't. I know better."

"Maybe you're right. You seem to have changed much since you first tried to kill me," I admitted, frowning as I looked into the fire as he had done.

"I haven't changed. Your perception has, through the time we've spent together. The monster is still here. I don't have lofty notions of nobility of spirit you prize so highly, but somehow you've found a way to look past the monster on the surface and see the man within, a man worth knowing. I'd like to show you more of him, if you're willing to let me." I was glad that he hadn't decided to lie to me, that he made no promises, and that he didn't hide who he was, but I was still struggling with the concept of… dating Al.

"They say familiarity breeds contempt," I offered, deflecting.

"In our case, I do not believe it will be so. The more I learn of you , the more time we spend together, the more I wish to know. I think you find the same is true, as well."

I raised my eyes to peer back at him, barely believing what I'd heard. "You said you knew you weren't the one to complete me."

"I still feel that way," he confirmed, stepping closer, into my personal space.

"Then why…?"

"Just because it's not forever doesn't make it a mistake. You and I," he said, cupping my cheek in his hand, "could have a lot of fun together. I haven't met the one who will complete you, and believe me, when I do, I will let you know. Until then, we have a lot to offer one another. You might just end up making me a better person, and I know I can help make you a stronger one."

My heart beat fast in my chest as he slid his hand around to the nape of my neck and drew me closer. "What about Newt?"

"She didn't want me using my position as your teacher to compel you into a physical relationship. I'm sure if we explain the nature of what we want to her and take the necessary precautions she'd want us to, that she'd come around." In the circle of his arms, staring into his borrowed face, I forgot the rest of the world existed. We were alone in our own private universe.

"I don't like that we have to clear it through her." I frowned, not wanting to bring my personal business under her scrutiny.

"Unless you're ready to take her place as Alpha Bitch, I don't see a way around that. So. What do you say? Shall we give it a try and see where it leads?" His hand returned to my face, his thumb swiping at my lower lip, teasing.

I was fighting to keep my wits about me. What he said made sense. Old habits of holding guys at arm's length died hard. I felt there had to be some sort of catch. If I could just figure it out, I'd have the reason I needed to turn him down for good, despite how I wanted it. It shocked me to admit to myself that I did. "I'll think about it. That's the best I can do for now."

"Ms Morgan!" Bis called from the deck above, breaking the spell. "They're closing!"

Al released me and stepped back with a sad, knowing smile. "I suppose we'd better go pay our tab, then."

"You douse the fire. I'll pay the tab."

We left through the back gate to go to my car. Now that I'd attuned to the line, I could go there without having to drive again. I could make it home the same way, but I didn't want to leave my car. It was parked at a meter and would be towed away in the morning. I couldn't really afford a parking ticket on top of the towing fee.

The drive back to the church was uneventful, despite Al's demand that he see me home. When a demon worries for your safety, you know something's up. I didn't like that the theft of a statue was making him nervous enough to want to be there, to protect me.

True to his word, he walked with me the short distance from the garage to the front door of the church. I turned expectantly on the stoop. He was still there. "Uh, thanks for seeing me home," I murmured. "I'd ask you in, but… you know. Hallowed."

"Can I meet you in the kitchen?" he pressed, clearly not wanting to go quite yet. I was glad that he'd bothered to ask permission.

"Let me warn whoever's here that we have a guest."

"Afraid of what I'll do to them?" He was amused at the prospect and rocked back and forth on his heels, grinning devilishly.

"No. Afraid what a spooked Ivy will do to you. _Then_ I worry what you'll do to her in retaliation. Let me just head that trouble off at the pass."

I hung my coat up on the hook by the door and slipped my boots off onto the mat, wondering how long the curse to make them would last. Bis went scrabbling off to places only he knew. I called to Ivy as I came in, and heard a shuffle of footfalls before the sharp retort of her bedroom door shutting with vamp speed. "Ivy?"

"Uhm, hi, Rachel," she peeked out from the hall leading to the back of the church. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon." Her black glossy hair was a tousle and from what I could see, she was only wearing her black satin robe over bare feet.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt," I floundered. "You, uh, you go have fun. I'll be in the kitchen. With Al."

"Oh," she frowned, her hand resting on the doorjamb. "He's still hanging around?"

"Shop talk. You know. Just keep it to a dull roar, would you?" As embarrassing as it was, nearly walking in on my roommate _with_ somebody in our church, it made me feel a little bit better about bringing somebody home, too. She nodded, blushing, and flitted back around the corner into her room. From the commotion that my arrival caused, I could guess that they were in the living room when they started. I'd done things in there, too. Things with Kisten. So I couldn't complain about her choice of venue.

The sanctuary smelled of heady Vamp incense. The trail of it ended at her bedroom door, but by the time I was out of the cloud, the damage was already done. My scar tingled and I was pretty sure Al would be able to tell, both about me, and about what she was up to. Hushed voices from within her room were too quiet to make out as I gained the kitchen. Standing outside the back door was my gentleman caller demon. I opened the door to invite him inside.

He took the steps in two bounds, eager to get out of the cold. He blew on his hands to warm them and ventured deeper into the kitchen, away from the door. I closed it swiftly, not wanting to let all the heat out. It was expensive enough to heat the church without trying to heat the whole outdoors. "Make yourself at home," I mockingly muttered, turning to him with a smile to take away the sting.

"Sorry about my dash inside. It's cold in this body."

"So that's not just a surface illusion?"

"It's a full transformation. It let me pass mostly undetected around the IS. I've been working on this one for a while. I've almost perfected it. With a borrowed, unblemished aura, no one would be the wiser."

"That's amazing. And… really… worrisome."

"My pet projects are the least of your worries, love. We must once again clear your name before they decide to exile you to the ever after. Unless you'd like to come live with me," he grinned.

"I like being able to move around freely in both worlds, thank you very much."

"You're welcome. The offer still stands." He regarded me seriously, but I could tell he knew I wouldn't take him up on it.

"You'd miss the coffee," I said, waving the offer and the emotion behind it away.

"Yes, I suppose I would. It wouldn't be the end of the world, though, and I'd have one hell of a consolation prize."

"I'm sure you'd find some gullible witch or warlock to summon you out for a cup every now and again."

"That's been the way it worked in the past," he agreed amiably.

I shook my head, smiling. We were speaking strictly in hypothetical terms. The mystery was still there to be solved, and I wanted to focus on that. "So, what's our next move?"

"Well, I suggest you get in touch with your elf and I will head to the archives to research the magical trace I found."

"Sounds like a plan," I shrugged. "Do you want a drink or something?" I asked as he shifted about the room restlessly.

"That would be lovely."

I went about the business of making a fresh pot while Al wandered around, looking at things. He'd done it before when I'd had him in a circle. That time he had started burning my spell books. This time, he seemed innocently curious, although not much about my kitchen had changed from his last inspection. With my back turned, I couldn't tell he was switching on the portable radio until I'd heard it click on. I often used it while I was baking in winter, so as not to disturb sleeping pixies out in the sanctuary. The station was set to my favorite. Thankfully, he didn't change it.

A soft rock and roll ballad poured out from the speakers. Once my attention was no longer needed at the coffee pot, I turned to find Al seated at the island, still dressed as a human. I leaned back against the counter and crossed my legs at the ankles and my arms over my middle, waiting. The gurgle of the coffeemaker and the sound of the radio was comforting, but I was still a little uneasy about why Al wanted to prolong our… date. Did he think I was going to invite him into my bed? I wasn't. In any case, he couldn't go there, and I wasn't yet sure if I was ready to, either.

He stood slowly, looking at me with intent. What that intent broke down into, I couldn't say, but I held my place and my posture, sure it didn't bode well for me. He took off his charcoal coat, hanging it on the chair instead of banishing it to nothing, acting like a normal guy in my kitchen rather than a demon with nearly unfathomable power. He approached me slowly, giving me ample time to tell him to back off or to make an escape. Arm's length away, he halted. His expression told me nothing about what he would do next.

He held out a hand for me to take, quirking a grin. "May I have this dance?"

My arms fell to my side with the force of my surprise. Whatever I thought he would do, that wasn't it. "Seriously?"

"I take it you don't get offers to dance very often," he replied, but kept his hand hovering before me.

"I, uh, it's been a while, I suppose."

"I'm here, you're here, the music is here," he said, parodying my turn of phrase from out on the ice. "Let's just dance."

I cocked my head and shrugged, sighing. "Why not?" I took his hand and he led me out into the small empty space between the island and the hallway before bringing me in close. We swayed in time to the soft rock coming from the radio. I held myself stiffly, at first, but in time I started to relax, enjoying the dance. Eventually, I laid my head to rest on his shoulder, hearing his heart beat and feeling the warmth of skin and muscle beneath my cheek.

He lowered his chin to rest on my hair and drew my hand up to lay on his shoulder so he could send his own to join the other at my waist. I never thought that a demon could be romantic, but Al was making a good show of it, holding me gently and giving comfort. We swayed without rhythm, more like we were hugging to music, rather than dancing.

The whisper of his cheek against mine in a velvet caress and he breathed into my ear a soft murmur: "I could be anything or any one for you. Every night could be like this, if you'd only say the word."

I lifted my head to look at him, heart kicking like a mule at the offer. "Al, what are you doing?"

He lifted a hand to cup my jaw, eyes flicking back and forth between my own. I knew he wanted to kiss me, but I wanted an answer. "Giving you food for thought," he replied, and leaned in to taste my lips. My eyes slid shut of their own volition as I felt the soft warmth of his lips. I noted the difference in the texture from Pierce's, from Al's lordling. They were plumper than both, without the rasp of Pierce's whiskers or the nearly scorching heat of Al's normal body temperature. I held my breath as he nuzzled them back and forth against mine in a barely-there caress, beguiling me to press back at him and deepen the contact. My breath left me in a moan, and I drew another as he parted my lips with his tongue, sending it searching past my teeth to tangle with mine. He didn't grab my hips or drag me closer, but seemed content to let his lips and tongue convey his passion. Instead, I was the one who grasped him tighter, sending fingers into his short-cropped hair and pressing my breasts hard against him.

I could feel the ridge of his arousal, trapped in his trousers, so I knew he wasn't unaffected. He seemed to be forcing himself not to take things further, rather than overwhelming my senses in ways I knew he could. It seemed like this was the newest in a long line of tactics he liked to employ with me. To tell the truth, I was a little put off by it. I wanted the fire of his passion, not the lukewarm kisses of his restraint. It reminded me far too much of what I'd had with Nick. After all I'd experienced since, it paled in comparison to how I knew it could be.

Sensing my frustration, he let me pull back without protest. "Stop it," I growled. "Stop acting like some lame-ass human and kiss me properly." I didn't care if Ivy's vamp-enhanced hearing caught it. I was too pissed off to wonder what she thought of the fact that I was kissing Al. I figured she was far too busy to be eavesdropping, in any case.

"Not to your taste, I take it?" His eyes glinted. "Shall we try something else on for size?" A new wash of red everafter coated him, while I was still partially holding onto him. Muscles and sinews shifted, altered, and the fabric of his clothing with them. The stretchy cotton of his turtleneck became a silk button-down. Brown eyes turned to crystalline blue. His tanned complexion shifted to a paler, more porcelain one, and his hair became black and glossy, growing out to shoulder-length. He became slightly taller, more muscular, and his earlobe sported a glinting silver hoop. He grinned wolfishly showing me pointed canines, and my next breath brought a waft of sweet vamp incense through my nose and over my tongue. He was, head-to-toe, one of the most gorgeous living vamps I'd ever laid eyes on, and I'd seen more than my fair share. The hint of a five o' clock shadow lent itself well to his bad boy appeal. It didn't hurt that I knew Al was the baddest boy on this side of the lines. I felt myself growing a little damp, and he was barely even touching me.

I took a deeper breath, pulling his incense into me, letting it rub up against my hormones to make them spark. From the feel of things, Al was very good at playing the part of a vampire, and for the moment, I was all about getting into the game. I thought my scare, when I thought I'd been bound, had rid me of my desire to flirt with dangerous vampires. I was wrong. So, so very wrong. I was still a sucker for the pheromones, the supernatural speed and strength, the responses pulled from my scars, and the dangerous glint of pointy teeth in a big way.

I welcomed the return of harsh stubble, adding spice to the pleasure, as he kissed me long and hard in exactly the way I'd wanted him to. Hands clutched and grabbed, clothing was shoved out of the way, buttons were ripped from their moorings as I tore his shirt wide open to get at the skin of his muscled chest. I latched onto a nipple, loving the sound of the groan I inspired. The nipple left my mouth with a pop as he lifted me up by my waist so I could sling my legs around his hips.

He carried me to the island, using the counter at my back to make me feel trapped between it and his hard place. Takata's _Red Ribbons_ began playing on the radio, a live studio version of it I'd never heard before. It dimly registered that I was working toward getting my rocks off while my biological father sang to me on the radio. The hint of taboo had me feeling naughty and quite the bad girl, myself. It only made the whole thing hotter.

Al's mouth left mine. Panting, he pulled back so that he could grip the hem of my turtleneck sweater. I helped him get it over my head and he tossed it carelessly aside, leaving me in a black lace bra that left very little to the imagination. His eyes blazed with lustful intent. I threw my head back as he shifted me up onto the counter so he could cover my breasts with his large, elegantly boned hands. I ground my core over his erection through two layers of leather pants as he cupped me. His hands didn't linger long, though, and slid upward over my chest and collar bones, gliding over my neck, to grip my face and pull it back to his for another soul-searing kiss. My scar began to tingle and throb in earnest as he brushed fingertips over the unblemished skin that hid his saliva, and Ivy's.

Wanting and needing more skin-to-skin contact, I scooted back on the counter so I could reach the button at the front of his pants. A slight fumbling start, but a few quick tugs, and I had it unbuttoned. I pulled the leather hard to the side, laying open the zipper as wide as it would go and claiming my prize in an instant. At the first contact between my hand and his cock, he let out a startled groan. His breathing grew ragged as I circled him with my fingers, feeling the velvet skin over the hard core within, pulling it up and down in a firm grip that had him growling and thrusting back into the sheath that I'd made. Trembling, he grabbed my wrist, taking my hand away before I'd had my fill of playing with him. He trapped the other wrist just as swiftly, pulling both my hands down onto the countertop and holding them there as he attacked my mouth with renewed fervor.

Breathing became a real problem. I couldn't get enough air. I broke from the kiss and he trailed his lips over my cheek, across my jaw, to send spikes of pleasure through open-mouthed kisses over my scars. He freed my wrists finally, and I immediately sent my fingers threading through the silky strands of his hair to hold his head to me. He urged my legs to release his hips and I was lifted by the iron band of an arm around the small of my back, while the hand of the other was busily undoing my own leather pants. Not satisfied to simply get them open, he wanted them off. He peeled them over my hips, setting me on my feet so he could continue their downward journey to the floor. As soon as they were pooled at my feet, he lifted me up onto the counter once again, dragging me flush against his body, where the only barriers between us were a few scraps of silk and lace. I crossed my ankles behind his firm buttocks, pulling him back just as hard. I was moments away from tugging the crotch of my panties out of the way so I could take him inside me as his mouth returned to worry at my neck, teeth nipping gently over my scar. I gripped at the wide expanse of his shoulders, leaning in to give him better access.

"Grant me this," he murmured against my skin. The words every living vamp learned as soon as they were old enough to bite brought me back to myself with a jolt.

"No… I can't. Ivy said…"

"That your blood belonged to her?" He chuckled darkly against my skin. "That she'd kill anyone who touched it?" He pulled back to stare unerringly into my eyes. My pulse galloped as I fought to catch my breath. "I'd love to see her try. She's nobody's scion. If Piscary couldn't finish me off, what do you think your little gal pal could do? Gnaw on me until I die of boredom?"

"I don't want to lose her," I whimpered, trembling with desire and fear. He breathed in the cocktail of my emotions, his eyes slipping closed with relish. When they opened, they pierced right through me.

"She has already given up that claim. She did that in Seattle. Your blood belongs to no one but yourself. You are demoness. _You_. _Are_. _Powerful_. Own that power."

I let out a hiccuping breath, taking in another, calming my racing heartbeat. Our gazes locked, I felt the truth. My blood, my power, was my own. It was always my choice. I couldn't use Ivy as an excuse forever. She had already moved on. The far-reaching consequences of letting him sink his fangs into me, though, still held the potential to hurt somebody I loved. "The answer is still no, at least for now," I said, my resolve rock-steady as my voice.

He shrugged, the play of muscles under skin catching my attention at the gesture. "It's not like I need blood. I can wait forever, if I have to."

"That doesn't mean I'm saying no to the rest of it," I told him squarely. "I intend to finish what we started, otherwise I might have to hurt somebody."

"I concur," he replied, and captured my mouth once more.

Another of Takata's songs came on the radio, also a live studio version I didn't know existed. I relished the feelings of renewed passions our deep kisses provoked in me, noting that throughout the entirety of our pause, his erection had never faltered. Grasping hands and breathy moans played counterpoint to acoustic guitar and Takata's crooning lyrics. My panties were soaked through with my juices and my nipples were hard enough to cut glass. I squirmed against Al in his vampire body, seeking friction the wet silk of my panties hinted at, but ultimately denied.

Sensing my need, my frustration, and feeling his own, Al grasped the elastic of the skimpy fabric on both sides of my waist and ripped the offending garment clear apart. Freed of the constraints of my legs, it was nothing to whip it completely away from my body. Now, nothing stood between his straining cock and my dripping core but air. He produced a condom from nowhere as he rubbed my clitoris with the pad of a thumb, keeping me occupied as he rolled the latex down.

He pulled his head back sharply, silently commanding me to meet his gaze. "Do you want this?" He demanded, stopping his circling thumb so I would answer him.

"Yes."

"Do you want me?"

"Yes!"

"If we go there, I will not be able to stop in the middle if you change your mind. Are you sure?"

"God, yes."

He lined himself up with my entrance, staring into my eyes with a fierceness. "Then you shall have it," he said and thrust home.

He held still, eyes locked on mine, as the enormity of the moment caught us both. Al was inside me. _Al was inside me!_ We were physically joined, culminating years of enmity, grudging respect, companionship, and finally and most recently, sexual tension you could cut with a knife. I was here, in my kitchen, having sex with Al for the first time while Takata played on the radio and my roommate was doing somebody else a few doors down and pixies slumbered in my desk and Bis was God knew where, but I couldn't think any further at the moment, because Al started to move.

He moved in me, slowly and powerfully, gaining momentum with each thrust and with each thrust, I rose to meet him fully. We alternated kissing lips and shoulders, muffling groans against heated skin when it became too much, nipping and laving it when it wasn't. Our pace became frantic until we were nearly hurling ourselves at one another. The head of his cock bumped unerringly at the sweetest place on my inner walls, pounding pleasure through every inch of my flesh as I grasped at him and he gripped me in return. I knew I would have finger-shaped bruises on my hips in the morning, but in the throes of our animalistic joining, I couldn't summon a care.

"God, Rachel," he cried out in a low, urgent voice. "I can't hold on much longer."

I felt the flash point approaching swiftly. "Oh… oh my… I'm going to…." My toes curled and my nails dug in as it overtook me. My awareness narrowed to the blinding light within as I fell prey to my orgasm. The clench of my muscles heralded its arrival, and Al moaned in relief as he succumbed to his own.

Unable to release him just yet, I laid my head on his shoulder and panted, the sweat on my forehead mingling with the sheen on his skin. I groaned in boneless repletion, feeling sleepy, worn-out, and pleasantly tingly all over.

Over the sound of our breathing returning to normal and the strains of guitar on the radio, I heard Ivy's shout of completion echo from her bedroom. I smiled against Al's shoulder. "Good for you, Ivy," I murmured, blushing a bit at the knowledge that she'd most definitely heard me cry out, too. Al chuckled at my rejoiner to her shout. I wondered if my sounds of enjoyment had enhanced her experience, as funny as the thought made me feel. I wasn't an exhibitionist by any means, but Al had a way of making me forget myself when he had me in his clutches.

"I wish I could carry you to your bed," Al murmured against my hair. "This would be a lot more comfortable."

"Just… give me another minute. Or maybe you could take on a form that's slightly less… endowed?"

"I don't have any of those," he admitted, shaking slightly with laughter.

"Men," I harrumphed. "You're all alike. Of course you wouldn't." I let out a contented sigh and snuggled closer into his shoulder.

"No regrets, then?" he asked, pulling back to look down at me.

I lifted my head to look back. "Nope. Although I kinda wish we'd done this elsewhere. I'll never see my kitchen in the same way again, and I'm going to need to thoroughly disinfect the countertop before I can bring myself to cook, spell, or eat on it."

"Probably a wise decision," he agreed amiably. I smacked his shoulder. "What? What did I do?"

I kissed the spot to take away the sting. "Don't get cheeky with me, mister. I'm a powerful demoness!" I let the giggles I'd been holding back free.

"So you are. Ah. I think that's done it," he said, pulling a face as he slipped free of my body, grasping the base so the condom would go with him. I hopped down from the countertop as he took the wrapping and its payload to the trash. I picked up my ruined underwear from the floor with a sigh. It had been one of my favorite pairs.

I gathered up my pile of clothing and made a hasty exit in the direction of my bedroom to the sound of Al's protests. "I'll be right back," I assured him. "I have to go to the bathroom and find something to slip on."

He glanced at the two remaining phials of potion on my sink significantly, and I shook my head. "So not worth it and I still have to pee."

I did my business and slipped on my classier velvet bathrobe before making my reappearance in the kitchen. Al had refastened his pants, but left the shirt gaping. He looked like a model on the cover of a romance novel. I wouldn't toss him out of bed for eating crackers, in fact I had the distinct urge to eat him. He was slouched in my chair, listening to the radio, and waiting for me to come back. He had the air of a man who was pleased with himself and the rest of the world, but was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. The radio announcer was asking somebody a question and I nearly managed to blot the whole thing from my awareness as I approached my new lover.

With surprise, I heard Takata answer his question. Those weren't recordings I'd heard, he was really there at the station giving a live performance. I wondered why he never contacted me to let me know he was in town. I switched my trajectory in mid-stride as I went to go retrieve my cup of coffee while I listened raptly to my biological father giving an interview about his newest album, further love play put on the back burner for the moment.

"Can we hear a little something of what you've been working on?"

"Sure. I was actually planning on playing the signature piece of the album for the first time, tonight," Takata's slightly raspy voice replied.

"This is just incredible, folks," the announcer said. "For those of you just tuning in, Takata has agreed to debut a single from the new album right here in our studio for all of you at home."

"I'd like to dedicate this performance to a very special someone in Cincinnati tonight. This song's called 'She'," Takata said, and then he began to play. The chord progression was simple, though the intricacy of the guitar work more than made up for it. When he began to sing the lyrics, I felt my heart go up into my throat.

_She changes everything she touches and_

_ Everything she touches changes._

_ The earth, the air, the fire, the water;_

_ Everything she touches changes._

I wandered closer to the radio, reaching out to touch it, to ensure it was real. "Im awake, right?" I turned to Al, begging him to confirm it.

"Well, you're not dreaming. If anybody's dreaming, it's me." He said and came over to wrap his arms around me from behind and rest his chin on the top of my head. I felt like I was wearing him like a coat, and it felt really nice, but my mind had caught a thread of a mystery and wouldn't let go until I'd unraveled it.

"That song. That melody. I heard it in my dream. Ceri was humming it when I woke up, so I thought that's where it came from, but Takata is playing that song for the first time, live."

"It's an old melody, love," he said reassuringly. "The words have been shifted about, but they come from old Wiccan campfire songs. You probably heard it while you were at that camp, which is why you wouldn't remember. I'm not surprised he's reusing them, this close to the Solstice."

"Oh," I said, feeling foolish. "I guess that makes a lot of sense. I know it's silly, but it seemed like such a crazy coincidence. I had that dream the day the statue went missing, about an hour before."

"It seems to be weighing heavy on your mind. Why don't you tell me about it?"

"It's… hard to explain why it strikes me as so odd," I said, frowning. "Maybe you'd better just look and see the memory. You'd understand better than I could tell it."

"You want me to read your mind?" he asked in surprise.

I turned in his arms to look up at him. "Why not? You've seen my memories before, plus my soul laid bare and almost every inch of my naked body, just now, so what's left to hide?"

"Good point. Try to focus on the memory you want me to see, that way I won't have to be so invasive."

I felt his mind touch mine, like gently probing fingers, as I relived for him my memory of the dream. Brief as the dream was, innocuous as it seemed, it still unsettled me. I hoped that whatever he thought of it would put my mind at ease.

He pulled back with a worried frown once the memory was done. I didn't like how he shared my unease. "That's… not good."

"What? What does it mean?"

"I can't be sure until I've spoken to the Collective, but I suspect…" he trailed off, covering his mouth with his hand, as if afraid to speak his suspicions aloud.

"What! What is it?"

"It's Mom."

a/n

Dun dun dunnnnnn. Don't get it? Don't worry. Rachel doesn't either, but in the next chapter, Al will explain.

So, there you go. Some real live lemons to keep you warm at night and a thickening plot in case you thought I was just in it for the sex. What ever will Ivy think of Rachel's antics in the kitchen? Who was in Ivy's bedroom? What really happened with the statue? How will Newt react when she finds out that Al and Rachel got it on? What did Al mean when he said it was 'Mom'? Answers will be coming in our next episodes, so stay tuned


	13. Heading For a Crash

"WHAT? Your mom did this?" I gasped out, horrified. I had thought that Newt was the only female demon left on either side of the lines. I had forgotten that the demons who didn't make it out of the lines could very well still be there, being driven mad over the thousand years since getting stuck there. I hadn't lasted five minutes without my aura. How could one of them have gotten free?

"No, Itchy Witch. No more than your own mother did. My mother has been gone for a millennia, and yours does not hold one iota of the staggering power that such a being does, no matter that she made you. This is going to take a while to get to the heart of the matter at hand… a long conversation and a lot of coffee. I first must bring my suspicions to the Collective, to the Counsel." He began pacing in my kitchen, brow furrowed with thought and motions edging toward eerie Vamp speed in his unease. "If it is as I fear, we have little time to lose and much to make up for."

"Can you at least give me the cliff notes?" I pled, not linking being kept in the dark any more than was necessary.

"The short version is that a very ancient and powerful being is out and about on your side of the lines, for whatever reason, becoming manifest. I fear what this means for us all."

"Fear?" I gulped. "What does a demon have to fear?"

"The ones who made us. Please stay in your church until I can come back to tell you the rest, or until you are summoned by the Collective to make your report of what you have witnessed. Study your books. Continue practice with your spelling. Anything, just do not leave."

"Who made 'us'? Al, what's going on?"

He turned to me from his furious pacing and gave me a look that conveyed his mind-numbing fear, his elation at what we had done, and the promise of so much more to come. I fell silent under that pinning stare. In three strides, with Vamp speed, he was right in my face. He held me close, peering into my face as if committing it to memory. The kiss he gave conveyed the same purpose, as if he was putting all the feelings he had into it, savoring it and reveling in every sensation he could. Then he let me go. I realized that I had to do the same.

"Stay safe," I whispered, afraid for once that it might be more than he could handle.

"And you. I will return as soon as I can."

As if he couldn't help himself, he returned for another mind-stopping, heartrending kiss.

"Before you go," I panted, stopping him with a tug on his sleeve, "Let me see the English Lord in velvet one more time?"

"It is a lie as much as the rest of my affectations," he told me with a sad smile, "but if it will make you happy, it shall be as you say." He stood back apace, gave an elegant flourish, and a wash of everafter took him from my sight. He morphed once more into his more familiar guise and bowed low over my hand, bestowing a gallant kiss. He looked up into my eyes for a moment, goat-slitted orbs over smoky glasses conveying his humor that I would ask and gladness that I had, and vanished into what was left of the night.

Where before his presence would leave me with the feeling of dread, of death one step in the wrong direction away, now the absence of it left me feeling cold and alone. I had held so tight to the conviction that he was always out to get me for so long, I couldn't pinpoint when that feeling had begun to change. I sat heavily in my chair for a moment, blowing out a huge breath. It finally sunk in that I had had sex with Al in my kitchen, with Ivy in the church, and would do so again in a heartbeat because it meant that he was safe here with me. What danger would he face with the Collective? Would they wish to punish the bearer of bad tidings? I didn't know and couldn't begin to fathom the danger he was in at the moment. I didn't have all the damn facts and I hated it. All I had was a lingering sense of fear for his safety and it rankled being a prisoner in my own church once again, unable to do anything to help.

In a morose mood, I went into the cabinet to give myself _something_ to work on. I pulled out the orange cleaner that Ivy insisted we use to erase the mingled scents of our presences from various common areas so that her instincts weren't constantly being provoked. I pulled out a towel from the drawer that held the clean kitchen hand towels and got to work on the island counter before my roommate emerged from her bedroom in search of juice, water, or food after the night's activities.

Everything we had touched, from the coffee maker to the radio also got a spray and wipe-down treatment. I told myself I wasn't erasing what we'd done to save face. I argued only that Ivy still got a little possessive at times, so it was best to keep things from ticking her off. I figured that the scent of a demon intwined with mine wasn't so big a deal, but a demon in a living vampire skin suit would be a bit much for her instincts to take. That done, I invoked my last two potions and downed them, and got stirring.

By the time Ivy came out for refreshments, the kitchen smelled like spelling demon/witch and oranges. The lingering essence of living vampire pheromones were overpowered by the blood-sugaring levels coming off of Ivy. She was relaxed and happy, smelling of blood-and-sex-sated vampire. My scar did a little dance of delight under my skin as she breezed in and went to the fridge. I pulled the essence of those pheromones deeper into me in a huge breath of air, content to let her mood affect mine for once. I could use the comforting warmth it generated in my frazzled nerves.

We studiously avoided each other's eyes as I kept stirring and she began putting together a tray to carry back to her room. I couldn't tell if it was because we were embarrassed about our nocturnal activities, or if we were afraid of what the other would say about them.

Finally, she spoke. "Shop talk, huh?" I blushed to the roots of my hair.

"Got a problem with it?" I growled.

"Nope," she smiled with the hint of fang. "Sounded to me like he knew what he was doing."

What the hell happened to my uptight roommate? I rounded on her with an incredulous look.

She shrugged and took a long drink of her juice. "He's right, you know. It's your choice." There might have been a bit of sadness below the air of nonchalance she was trying to convey. "And I know what I said in Seattle. I'm not here to judge you. I know what it's like to… want things that other people might not understand. Just… be careful. And know that no matter what you choose, I'll always be here with a cup of hot chocolate if you end up getting hurt."

"Ivy," I breathed out, afraid of what I might say. "I…"

"It's OK, Rachel. You don't have to worry about me. I'm getting better and stronger and finding my joy. I'd be a _real_ monster if I tried to stop you from doing the same."

I nodded my thanks. The words seemed so paltry in comparison to how I felt. "So you're not… mad?"

"Why would I be mad? I'm moving on. I've tried for months to show you that I am. Now that you're practicing again, you don't really need my protection, so my claim on your blood would be a limitation, not an asset. I've never claimed the rest of you, much as I wanted to. That would be selfish. You're not my shadow. You're my friend."

"Ok, then," I breathed out, still in a bit of shock. "So we're good?"

"Better than good. We're great. Now, if you don't mind, I've got some pressing business in my room to attend to. Better not let that boil over, either." She nodded to my potion, which I scrambled to salvage as she sashayed from the room with her tray of goodies.

Once I had the batch cooling off to the side, I grabbed another cup of coffee and sat heavily at the counter, mind in a daze. There was too much to process to start another batch. I'd be distracted and distracted spelling often meant big, horrendous mistakes. I wasn't sure if I should trust the batch I'd just made, any way. I frowned into my coffee as I let the night's events play out again in my head. I got to the point where Al and I were leaving downtown for Clifton, where he'd told me about the magical trace he'd felt. I thought about the slight demon flavor he'd detected. I thought about my dream, trying to see where the puzzle pieces fit together. With a sneeze, I felt that somebody from over there was trying to contact me. I pulled out my scrying mirror and opened a connection.

_Rachel, _ Al's mental voice came across the link. He felt tired.

_Hi_, I thought back shyly.

His low mental chuckle warmed my heart. _You can be irritatingly adorable at times. Have to try to keep a straight face. I'm in an audience with the Counsel. They'll be putting together a full session. You'll be summoned at dawn to testify._

_ How bad is it?_ I bit my lip in worry.

_They've not reached a decision about whether or not this is the work of one of the Younger Gods. They're going to be sure before they allow this to cause a panic._

_ 'Younger Gods'? Al, what the hell are we into, here?_

_ I would have liked to be able to tell you the whole of it, but they won't let me leave. They want this buttoned down tight. _Images began to filter through the message that he was trying to get across. I saw the court room flicker here and there, recognized it from when I'd claimed Trent as my own familiar. It was hard to follow, but I managed to glean not only where he was in the everafter, but snippets of books he'd read, with illuminations on the so-called 'Younger Gods,' and get a slight feel for the power that they were reported to have.

_So tell me now. I need to know how to prepare._

_ There's not enough time. I'm to go give my testimony before the Conclave to… oh shit here they come._

_ Al!_

_ Later, love._

With that, the connection was closed.

I got up to switch off the radio. Takata's show was over and it was getting harder to think around the lyrics and pounding drums of the music. Marylyn Manson wasn't really conductive to the pondering of deep mysteries. I went to the window to stare out into my graveyard. I shook inside, while outwardly I was as calm as a placid lake on a breezeless summer's day. I wondered briefly who I was trying to be strong for and found that the answer was me. I needed to be strong like I needed air and water. I couldn't break down right then, not with the looming certainty that I'd be called away to give testimony before the demonic court.

The demon flavor, based on Al's reaction to my dream and what had occurred within it, was probably my contribution to the unknown potion. I didn't try to wrap my head around how something that happened in a dream could effect reality; I'd seen that even things in dream could have bearing on what went on in the physical realm. My kiss with Trent could testify to that. That had been Elven magic. It was said that their magic drew power from the divine. A god (or goddess) was most certainly to be considered divine in nature, so it was no great stretch of the imagination to think this was in the scope of godly power.

What remained were only questions of why _I_ was needed. Was it because I was the only demon this side of the lines? Or was it something far more sinister? Was it because of what I'd _done _to the lines? The being masquerading as my mother had said she was finishing what I started. I'd started a whole lot of things, none of which had as much bearing or significance to the natural balance between the worlds as carving a new line from reality to reality. She wanted to bring _all _ her children home, she said. If she was one of the original creators of demonkind, as I'd gotten an inkling from everything Al had said, and if the everafter was merely a bubble of misplaced time, trailing along behind this world, she may have been trying to end the everafter, to bring the demons back into reality.

I pondered that thought deeply, wondering if that would be such a bad thing. The immediate thought was that I wouldn't have to smell burnt amber ever again, and that any future booty calls Al paid me wouldn't have to end at dawn. Selfish reasoning aside, I decided instantly that it would be the worst thing to ever happen, for so many reasons. As long as demons remained trapped in the everafter, the world was mostly safe from them. I could see where they would set themselves up as the unquestioned overlords of the world, with so few elves to hold them back. Reality wasn't ready for them to return. The immediate consequence of the two worlds becoming one, though, was that all of demonic agreements and all of demonic law hinged on the two worlds remaining separate. The chaos that would ensue when demons no longer had to hold up their ends of the bargains with witches, humans, elves, each other… I couldn't bear to think of it. Ceri would be in danger. I would be in danger, more than already I was. Nic and those like him would find themselves a familiar, a slave, or somebody's after dinner mint within the hour. The fragile balancing act between the powers of the separate Interland societies would be overturned. Riots. War. Death and destruction on a global scale, so soon after the Turn. No one was ready. No one would be safe.

I gave into the shudders that wanted to wrack my body as I thought through the worst-case scenarios. I wasn't so naive to think that reuniting demon society with the one made by Vampires, Weres, Witches, Elves, and Humans would be all sunshine and roses. It would be a total catastrophic event that would rock the foundations of the earth.

I decided right there and then that if uniting the separate realities was the goal of this 'Mom' person, whatever powers she had, I would do everything I could to stop her. Her plans would endanger us all. It was with this sense of purpose in mind that I pulled myself together and got back to spelling. I wanted all the tools in my arsenal when I had to face the demon Collective and tell them what I'd done and how this being was going to exploit it to bring about the end of existence as we knew it.

As night inched toward day, I had consumed three pots of coffee, more phials of various curses than I had done in the whole of my existence, and stocked my splat gun with much worse than sleepy-time pellets. I threw on my working leathers, called for Bis, and left a note on Ivy's computer desktop about where I was going, along with my instructions as to what needed to be done in the meantime. I couldn't tell her exactly who stole the fountain because I didn't have all the damn facts, but I wrote my suspicions down so that she could continue investigating it while I was away.

I wrote an email to my mother, to tell her I loved her. I knew it would scare the shit out of her, but I'd never forgive myself if I didn't get the chance to come back to tell her so. I tried to write one to Trent. All I could come up with was, "Sorry things never worked out." I wrote a much longer one to Ivy and to Jenks. Part of my instructions to Ivy were that if I was summoned and I didn't come, to get into my email and send my last letters to everyone. With the sun creating the horizon, I called for Bis. Something in my mood must have clued him into the gravity of my situation, because his ears and tail were decidedly drooping. I reassured him as best I could.

I waited for the summons. The lines would be closed for travel from the everafter for the demons and whatever court they would bring together would be going into session with the sunrise. I didn't have long to wait.

I sneezed and doubled over with the gut-cramps, ensured Bis was with me, and let the summoning have me.


End file.
